


Holding Out for a Hero

by lonestarbabe (neverfeltlesscool), Pigeonsplotinsecrecy



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Depression, Grief, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22392031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverfeltlesscool/pseuds/lonestarbabe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy/pseuds/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy
Summary: When T.K. Strand was eight years old, his father died on 9/11 with the rest of his fire station, and T.K.’s life forever changed. Luckily, in his grief and anger, T.K. found music, which gave him an outlet and kept him out of trouble… at least enough to keep him alive. At the age of sixteen, T.K. was propelled into stardom and with the grief and anger still very much alive within him, he began to use drugs, alcohol, and one-night stands to cope. As one of the most popular pop stars alive, T.K. has been accustomed to screaming masses and fanatical adoration but his manager, Judd, and best friend, Marjan, seem to think T.K. needs someone to look after him. T.K. doesn’t want another bodyguard, not after the series of uptight tightwads he’s had, but when he’s introduced to buff, sweetly handsome Carlos Reyes, T.K. begrudgingly decides that he can put up with a little eye candy hanging around (but it’s not because he needs someone to look after him, definitely not…)
Relationships: Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star)/TK Strand, Marjan Marwani & TK Strand
Comments: 87
Kudos: 226





	1. Where Have All the Good Men Gone?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome to this fic. Please look out for all the warnings. Some content may be sensitive and triggering for some people. Feel free to contact to me if you need more information. Be careful, and I hope you enjoy this story.

_Where have all the good men gone,_

_Where are all the gods?_

_Where's the streetwise_ _Hercules_

_To fight the risin' odds?_

* * *

**T.K.**

* * *

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” T.K. refuted, petulantly crossing his arms over his chest, but Judd gave him a sharp “don’t argue with me” look. The look usually didn’t go very far. After all, arguing was one of T.K.’s favorite hobbies. Though, he rarely took arguments too seriously. Mostly, they were just for sport, but this time T.K. knew to shut up, at least while Judd lectured him.

“Come on, this is my job to look after you. Let me do it.” Judd adjusted his wristwatch, still not used to the heavy metal Rolex that Grace had gotten him. She’d told him maybe it would him look like an actual manager because looking at Judd, you’d pick a barista from Starbucks as the talent manager over Judd.

Judd’s flannel shirt and blue jeans set him apart from not just other managers but also most of LA. Originally from Texas, Judd may have been a high-profile entertainment manager, but he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a suit to work. If you squinted, you might mistake him for a hipster, but Judd would snarl if anyone ever called him that (he had no beard or weird coffee). Lumberjack would be less offensive (again, no beard or no ax). Cowboy would be better than redneck. He might even take cowboy with pride.

While he was still very much a Texan at heart, Judd had followed his wife, Grace, out to LA so she could chase her dream of being an actress. Considering that Grace Ryder was going to be in what could be the summer’s big blockbuster, the move had paid off and things were going well for the Ryders. T.K. was just relieved that for the last five years he’d had Judd on his side. It was good to have someone who cared, even if T.K. was still a fuck up (because that was inevitable).

His former manager, Misty, had been a robotic woman who cared more about her pantsuits than her clients. At sixteen, he’d signed on with her, and from the start, she’d wanted more than T.K. was willing to give. Albums, tours, books, perfume lines, signings— she’d wanted him to do it all, but T.K. never got a moment of rest. She manipulated him and used all his youthful optimism against him. At first it had been fun, but then it was just exhausting. Misty had cracked T.K., and she had made music a chore, but it wasn’t like T.K. knew anything else. He felt trapped. He wanted to love music again, but he knew he couldn’t do that with Misty breathing down his neck. Misty wasn’t evil. T.K. had good times with her even if he couldn’t keep up with her demands. She’d helped him start his career. She’d taken a chance on him. Nevertheless, she wasn’t good for him. She was too concerned about her own desires to pay proper attention to his. He needed someone who saw him as an actual person rather than a problem.

Now, Judd had the unenviable job of trying to piece a broken kid back together, but Judd didn’t seem too dismayed by the task. He’d been doing it for five years, after all. T.K. had come to Judd after a long search for the perfect manager, and it had been a cosmically right fit. Marjan Marwani, T.K.’s best friend, had actually been the one who had found Judd, and she still held it over his head that she had found him the best manager on the planet. He really loved his best friend even if she liked to taunt him mercilessly. 

In the time that he had been T.K.’s manager, Judd had been patient with T.K. He worked so hard to keep T.K. vaguely functional. Judd actually cared for some reason. Unlike Misty, Judd wasn’t the kind of manager in it for the money. He’d even suggested that T.K. take a break whereas other managers would have tried to keep their top earning talent working as much as possible. Judd wouldn’t care if he didn’t get another dime from T.K., but T.K. was too stubborn and too lost to take time from the spotlight. He needed music in his life.

“All celebrities of your caliber use bodyguards,” Judd explained, his accent muted slightly by LA influences. When he went home to Austin, Judd’s voice always reverted to its original sound just like T.K. always sounded most like a New Yorker when he was in New York. “It’s a security risk to let you go running around alone. I know you like your independence, but when you have as many fans as you do, things are bound to get out of control.” T.K. suspected Judd was less worried about fans than T.K.’s behavior.

“Yeah, and I’ve had fifteen bodyguards in the past six months alone. I think that’s quite enough.” The last thing T.K. needed was another big slab of man following him around with a faintly disapproving look. His former bodyguards all tried and failed to keep a neutral expression when they worked for him. They’d been discreet, but he could always see the way their eyebrows scrunched, and lips pushed together with a nearly inaudible grunt. Even when he was drunk and higher than the moon, T.K. could see the disdain or, worse, the pity, in their eyes. He was just another teenage star turned adult fuck up. He wore the badge as proudly as he could even though he hated himself for becoming an out of control stranger.

“You know I’m not happy with your revolving door of bodyguards. It’s a major hassle, but I’d rather hunt down schmucks willing to deal with you than for you to get into trouble. Believe it or not, I prefer you alive.” T.K.’s heart flipped at the sentiment, and for whatever reason, he felt touched. The warm feeling sent a surge of anxiety through his body because somewhere along the line he’d learned concern was dangerous. He fidgeted in his seat, trying to retain his cool demeanor. 

T.K. rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Dad,” he said before he could think. The joke scratched against T.K.’s tongue like sandpaper. He hadn’t used the word dad in… well, he couldn’t even remember how long. Since his dad had died, T.K. had always the term father to refer to all dads. Dad was too personal, so he usually saved that word only for use with his own father, whose memory had become terrifyingly blurry in T.K.’s mind.

Judd grunted, an affectionate, slightly exasperated grunt. You could tell a lot about Judd’s mood based on his grunt. Grace always joked that he had a language composed all of grunts. “Someone has to look out for you.” _Because your dad is dead._

“I don’t want to be protected,” especially not by his big brother of a manager.

“Yeah, well I can’t trust you to quit your self-destructive shit. Sometimes I wonder…” Judd trailed off shaking his head. His voice had quivered, softer and more hesitant.

“What? Wonder what?” He was already starting to feel defensive.

“Never mind, kid. It doesn’t matter.” Judd bit his bottom lip, knowing that he had almost said too much. His eyes were concerned, which made T.K. feel angry more than loved. He didn’t like when Judd tried to give him “much needed guidance.”

“No, tell me, what is it?” T.K. hated being coddled and kept out of the loop even if it was for his own good.

Judd looked at the picture of Grace on his desk. Emotions were more her thing. She’d be much better at this, but T.K. was worth making the effort when need be. “It’s not something you’d want to hear.”

“I don’t care. Tell me.”

Judd sighed, worrying that this thought would do more harm than good, but it had been growing in his mind for a while. He took a deep breath. “Sometimes I wonder if it doesn’t matter to you if you live or die.” T.K. eyes shot up to meet Judd’s. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, but he didn’t like it. Yet, he couldn’t retreat from it because he’d been the one to press Judd to tell him what he was thinking.

“I’m not suicidal.” It wasn’t like he was going to jump off a bridge or something. “I wouldn’t try to kill myself if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Maybe not. I’m not exactly the best person to talk about all this stuff but seems to me that you wouldn’t mind dying if it happened to you.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Judd,” but it did. T.K. knew exactly what Judd meant, and it scared him how close to the truth Judd was.

“I just think that it doesn’t scare you that one night you could overdose, and I think you’re playin’ Russian roulette with your life, half-hoping that maybe you won’t get lucky.”

“Psychoanalyzing is for shrinks.”

“Yeah, I know, but it can’t be healthy to be so unconcerned about your own mortality.”

“There wouldn’t be much I could do about it if I died, so I don’t bother worrying about it.” T.K. thought about death sometimes. He’d even imagined himself dying, but it wasn’t in a weird way he didn’t think. Everyone thought about it. Him maybe more than others.

“No, I guess not, but I’m just saying that it seems to me you’d be okay if it just ended, relieved even.”

“Not to get nihilistic or whatever, but there’s not much to live for is there? But it’s just like going to work. Each day, you just gotta do it.” Life, even the glamorous life of a superstar, could be a monotonous jumble of highs and lows, but T.K. had learned that there wasn’t much he could do about it. He had to keep trudging along even if he didn’t know where to or why.

“Man, I don’t know what to say to that, but I think you’ve got it all wrong. Life isn’t that grim.”

T.K. backtracked. “I didn’t mean to suggest it was. It isn’t all bad, really. It’s not like I always hate it or anything. I do have fun. I have my pick of men, and I get invited to lots of parties.” T.K. smirked. “I’m sure you’ve seen some of the viral videos.”

“Getting so wasted you can’t remember how many fingers you have ain’t fun.”

“You’re just lucky none of my sex tapes have been leaked, but let me tell you, they’d do real well on Pornhub.”

“Keep those to yourself. The ‘I only have six fingers’ video was enough of a nightmare.” It should have been humiliating, but T.K. had just laughed when it had come out. His management team had been clucking like hens, but something so silly wasn’t worth all that headache, so T.K. just reminded that everything that happened to him was one big cosmic joke.

“I don’t even remember that night honestly, but that’s the fun of it, Judd—forgetting all the things you normally have to remember.”

“Yeah, well, how ‘bout trying to remember a little more. You’ll forget yourself if you’re not careful.”

“As long as I don’t forget how to carry a tune, I think I’ll be okay.” As long as he could still got on the stage and do his job, he’d be fine.

“You’re more than a singer.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be. Life would be so much better if you only had to be one thing.”

“I want you to slow down on the partying.”

T.K. laughed. “And you think a bodyguard can help me with that? Yeah, right.” T.K. didn’t believe he needed a bodyguard at all. He was a big boy, and he wasn’t going to wilt just because a crowd gathered trying to get his attention or he drank a little too much. Bodyguards were basically just pieces of furniture who turn into stone walls when danger struck.

“He’ll make sure you make it out in one piece. I’ve picked a great guy.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“I mean it with this one.”

T.K. exhaled, still not thrilled about the idea of having someone follow him around. “What’s his name?”

“Carlos Reyes, and I think he’s just your type.”

“My type?”

“Trust me. He’s the kind of guy you’d like. He’ll keep up with you.”

“Oh yeah? Another bald forty-year-old? You know that those Mr. Clean types really get me going. It would be really hot to see my reflection on one of their shiny heads. Narcissistic goals.”

“You better bet careful, T.K.. One of these days someone will think you’re serious.”

“I am. That dude three, no four, bodyguards ago took me way too serious. I think he actually thought I was into him.”

“I think Aaron quit just because you kept calling him a sexy Mr. Clean.” Judd shook his head, smiling a little.

“I think that guy’s suit was glued to his body. He didn’t even try to fit in. Bodyguards should be discreet. Plus, I got homophobic vibes from him. Like the kind of guy who will say he’s fine with gay people but then ask who’s the woman in the relationship.”

“The new guy isn’t like that.”

“So, if he’s not like Mr. Clean, what is he like? Hot? Eighty years-old? An actual robot?”

Judd gestures a zip across his lips. “You’ll see his pretty face soon, Rockstar. He starts tomorrow.”

“Maybe give me a week. I need some me time before I’m shackled to a piece of meat. ”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Judd was decisive, “But no, you cannot have a week. I’ve already told him he could start tomorrow.” He left no room for arguments.

“Fine.” T.K. stood up from his chair, letting it teeter unsteadily with the force of him pushing it out behind him. The chair settled, all four legs back on the ground. T.K. took a breath. “I guess I better enjoy tonight, then, before this guy comes in to try to tame me.” T.K. winked. “Many men have tried. Very few have succeeded. Like Miley Cyrus would say, ‘I can’t be tamed.’”

“Don’t tell me you want to get on a wrecking ball for your next video?”

He shook his head. “That’s not controversial enough for my taste. Full frontal nudity or nothing. The wrecking ball would just get in the way.”

Judd didn’t feed into T.K.’s joke. He gave T.K. a firm look. “You’ll call me if you need a ride home?” Judd had long ago made it clear that he was always available if T.K. needed him, no questions asked. T.K. had never taken him up on that offer.

“I’m not the kind of fuck up who crashes his hundred-thousand-dollar car. I know to hire a driver if I’m going to drink,” among other things, “or I’m sure I’ll find a nice young man to take me home. Or old. I’m not that picky.”

Judd gave him a disapproving look because T.K. liked to jump in bed with people who didn’t give a damn about his wellbeing. “That’s what I’m worried about. One of these days the young man, or old one, won’t be so nice.”

T.K. liked that thought. Good guys weren’t his thing, after all. Sweet guys were cute, but they always seemed unobtainable, especially with how much T.K. expected of his men. He liked them tough, sometimes even mean. He liked to watch them fight for dominance. He liked to watch them puff their chests and try to pin him down. He liked to roll them over and tease them with his lips and tongue. He liked to give in just as much as he liked to resist. “Even better.”


	2. You Can Call Me Al

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. and Carlos meet!

_You know I don't_

_Find this stuff amusing anymore_

_And if you'll be my bodyguard_

_I can be your long lost pal_

* * *

**T.K.**

* * *

Substances rushing through his body, T.K. was in a great mood and looking for some sexual release. He searched the crowded gay bar for someone who struck his fancy. His eyes landed on the biggest guy in the room, who couldn’t hide if he wanted to. His brown skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and the lights hit his brown eyes in a way that almost made them look green.

It took him a second of contemplation, but T.K. finally recognized the guy as a vague recollection of past encounters popped into his mind. _Good times._ The guy had stamina, T.K. knew that, but he couldn’t remember his name. All T.K. knew was that this dude had biceps the size of T.K.’s head and that Muscles’ mouth would be wasted on romantic words. _I’m just looking for sex, not love,_ T.K. reminded himself. Muscles was the perfect sex tool for T.K. just as T.K. was to Muscles. Mutual objectification—check. _I want it rougher than sandpaper and as heartless as the tin man._

Sidling up to Muscles T.K. leaned his arms against the bars so that his muscles were popping. “I was thinking about getting out of here.” T.K. and Muscles skipped the small talk whenever they hooked up. _Maybe that’s why I don’t know his name. It’s better off that way, anyway. Names can ruin everything. Adolph? Instant turn off._

“Looking for a ride, sugar?” Muscles asked with a cocky grin, _which is well deserved._

T.K. winked, “Only if you have tinted windows. I’m careful about who I’m seen with.”

“Husband?” T.K. wasn’t sure if Muscles recognized him or not, but Muscles treated him like a stranger, which caused some identifiable feeling to curdle in T.K.’s stomach. Being known was scary, but not mattering to someone was horrifying. T.K. nearly walked away, hating the way this guy made him felt, but he couldn’t move his feet. _I couldn’t even remember his name? Why would he remember mine?_ Being a celebrity, anonymity was nice and rare, but to not be remembered by a past lover was personal.

T.K. forced a smile. _Flirting is my specialty. Well, not really, I don’t have to flirt much. I just have to be easy._ “Definitely not. I can’t imagine being _married._ Let’s just say that some people in my life can’t appreciate what I do.”

“Ah, homophobes.”

“Nah, not that either. Just people who don’t know how to have fun.”

“Even worse.” _Yeah, right, because hating people is so much better than sitting at home and reading for the evening._ T.K. wasn’t going to go into a tirade on some passing comment that had been meant as a joke. _Maybe it’s my fault for lacking a sense of humor._

“What the hell are you doing?” a firm voice rang in T.K.’s ears. For a second, he thought he was having an auditory hallucination before he turned around to see the hottest guy he’d seen in at least four months.

“Who are you?”

Muscles licked his lips, “I’m willing to share, but _I’m_ in charge.” _Two men, I can get behind that._

Hot Guy didn’t even look at muscles. “Come on, tiger, you’re not sleeping with him.” The guy pulled T.K.’s arms from the bar, and T.K. lost his balance, nearly falling before he was steadied by the newcomer.

“What? Are you his boyfriend or something?” Muscles asked, puffing his chest. His veins popped out, and he was trying to look tough, but it was hard to take him seriously in the flowered bowling shirt he’d worn for Hawaii night.

“Who are you to tell me who to sleep with? It sure won’t be you.” T.K. turned to Muscles, shrugging Hot Guy’s hand off his shoulder. “Ignore him. I don’t even know who he is. As I told you before, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Husband. You said you didn’t have a husband.”

“I don’t have a finance either before you ask.”

Hot Guy pulled T.K. toward him with a gentle tug. Muscles pulled him back. _This is not tug-the -T.K._ Hot Guy won out. He spoke clearly. “I’m your new _bodyguard_. Carlos Reyes. I have the paperwork if you need to see it.” _Carlos, now that’s a nice name._

T.K. waved him off, giving him a once over. “Oh, I bet you are. You look the part. Big, strong, no fun. You’re way hotter than most, but you still have _responsibility_ in your beautiful eyes.”

“A bodyguard?” Muscles looked shocked. “Why would you need a bodyguard?”

T.K. shrugged. “Like I said, people in my life are killjoys.”

Carlos pulled out his I.D. to show it to T.K. “You shouldn’t take my word for it. I could be any old loser.”

T.K. looked skeptical “And you can’t fake an I.D.?”

“I also have some paperwork in my pocket if you want to see that too. Signed off by Judd.”

T.K. laughed again, “At the moment, words just look like squiggles. He squinted at the I.D. again, seeing Carlos’ picture. ”Very pretty squiggles.”

Muscles was growing impatient. “Can we go now? Or would you rather talk to the guy with a stick up his ass?”

“Of course, I prefer you, muscle man,” T.K. said looping his arm around Muscles’ broad shoulders, ushering Muscles off the bar stool. Muscles was broader but Carlos looked like he knew how to win a fight if the steel in his eyes was any indication. “Don’t worry about him. I’m his boss. He’ll leave if I tell him to.”

“We’re going,” Carlos countered with a stern look.

“Judd said you didn’t start until tomorrow, so the way I see it, you’re not my bodyguard yet.” _I’m not going to let any hot guy boss me around, especially one doing so on behalf of Judd Ryder._

Carlos tapped his watch. “That was yesterday. It’s after midnight now. Judd told me—”

“Yeah, well, you don’t get to tell him who to sleep with,” Muscles rose from where he was leaning against the bar, standing to his full six-foot-five height.

“You’ll stay right there.” Carlos pushed the dude back down into a seat. “He’s too high to know an apple from a pear.”

“Who the fuck cares? We’re just having fun.” Muscles wasn’t going to back down, and T.K. didn’t want to cause a fight. He just wanted to go home with a man who would show him a good time.

“He can’t consent when he’s like this, asshole. He probably won’t even remember tonight.“ The fire in Carlos’ voice was sexy, but T.K. rolled his eyes at the sentiment. The forgotten nights were the best ones.

“I want _sex,_ and I could tell an apple from a pear anytime,” T.K. complained indignantly, looking between Muscles and Carlos. “The pear is the one that tastes like a watered-down apple.”

“I need to take you home,” Carlos said with only a hint of exasperation, which meant he was a lot more annoyed than he let on.

T.K. looked confused. “What? Are you mad?” A look of realization filled T.K.’s face. “Oh, he must be a pear fan.” Then, T.K. was giggling uncontrollably, and both Carlos and Muscles looked at him like he was crazy. _I am. As crazy as a… something that’s really crazy… a dude named Tyler Kennedy._

Crazy or not, Muscles still seemed up for fun. “Calm down, bro. I’m not going to do anything that he doesn’t want. I know what T.K. likes.” _He does remember me, after all._ T.K. felt a pang of affection that he quickly chased away.

“I don’t care what he wants. My job is keeping him safe, so go find someone else to screw. Preferably, someone who can stand up without swaying.” _Oh, maybe that’s why I feel like I’m on a boat._

Before the topic could be discussed any longer, Carlos grabbed T.K. and dragged him through the crowd. When they were outside, T.K. rubbed the arm where Carlos had grabbed him. He shivered. “You could have been gentler with me. Judd won’t like you hurting his best merchandise.”

“You’re fine, and don’t call yourself merchandise. You’re a human being. If you weren’t, Judd wouldn’t care so much.”

Carlos pulled out his phone and called T.K.’s driver. When T.K. tried to walk away, going who knows where, Carlos reeled him back in with his free hand. _Why are his arms so long? He doesn’t have the biceps of Muscles, but he’s as close as you can get without steroids._ After hanging up the phone, Carlos shoved T.K. down on a bench while they waited for the car to arrive. Carlos remained standing, looming over T.K. “What did you take?”

T.K. shrugged. “Just some shots.” _Shots alone don’t feel this good._

Carlos didn’t buy the bullshit. “And?” He’d been around celebrities to know that T.K. had more than a few shots.

“I think some E, but I didn’t look at what it was.” _I’d have taken it no matter what it was._

“Fuck. You can’t take random pills and expect it to be okay. That could kill you, T.K.”

“I’m not dead yet.” _Not sure whether that’s for the best._

“Did that loser give them to you?” Carlos’ fists were clenched at the mere mention of Muscles.

“Nah, Muscles is cool. We’ve hooked up before. He’s as much of a gentleman as I want him to be. Drugs and sex are part of being a rock star.”

“You sing pop songs,” Carlos countered.

T.K. grinned. “Rock star is a state of mind.” Carlos didn’t say anything, but he let T.K. press his body against Carlos’ side.

They sat in silence until a familiar car drove up to the curb. T.K. was glad to see his driver, but he’d gotten pretty comfortable on the bench. It would be nice to go to sleep, but he could do that anywhere if he could get his mind to shut off. He was always so tired, but he still felt wired from the substances. His brain was wired. His body felt like a pile of noodles, slightly ahead of his racing thoughts that would soon come to a startling halt. 

“The car is here.” Carlos’ voice sounded floaty. T.K.’s body didn’t budge even though his brain told him he should get up. Carlos pulled T.K. up when he wouldn’t budge, moving him to the car like a ragdoll.

“Oh, manhandle me some more. I like it,” T.K. said hollowly. T.K. felt his mind drifting, going to that faraway place where he wasn’t part of the normal world anymore. No matter how many people were around, he would feel detached from everything, even himself. _It’s really nice. Calm. Easy. No complications._

“That what you want from that guy in there?” Carlos asked in a strange voice that T.K. couldn’t make sense of.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking it rough. I can give it as good as I take it.”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with it. But I don’t think you wanted rough sex from that guy. You wanted him to hurt you.” _I wanted him to break me and not bother to put me back together._

“Is that so bad?”

“It is when you’re using it to punish yourself.” Carlos’ words cut too deep, especially when they had only met one another.

“What would I punish myself for?” _For being a purposeless waste of space maybe? For being an awful son? For being a poser? For hating myself?_

Carlos shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t know you. Only what Judd told me about you. This conversation is wasted on you, anyway.”

“ _I’m_ wasted,” T.K. laughed tiredly, letting his head fall to Carlos’ shoulder. For someone who was so muscular, Carlos’ shoulder was a nice cushion, firm but with just right the amount of softness. If T.K. could find a pillow with that exact balance, maybe he could sleep without first getting high.

“Yeah, T.K., I know, but soon you’ll be back to normal.”

T.K. sighed before letting his eyes drift closed. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” He didn’t hear if Carlos responded. He’d already taken refuge in the blackness of sleep. _It’s better than gray._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this chapter. Let me know your thoughts and what you think is going to happen. Best wishes to you all.


	3. Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos and Judd meet to talk about T.K.

_Just gimme, g_ _imme you,_

_That's all I wanna do_

_And if what they say is true_

_If it's true, I might give me to you_

* * *

**Carlos**

* * *

Carlos was exhausted, his eyes heavy and his body sore from the lack of proper attention. After spending the night making sure T.K. didn’t get himself into any more trouble or choke on his own vomit, a nine-a.m. meeting with Judd Ryder felt like the sun shining in his eyes after being in a pitch-black room. Still, it couldn’t be avoided. Carlos barely had the energy to throw on a pair of dark wash blue jeans and an old police academy t-shirt that sent a wave of longing and regret through Carlos. _I’m part of a new world now, where sometimes you protect the bad guys._

As he walked into the beige office, dull anger throbbed through Carlos’ veins as he thought about the night before. He’d been thrown right into the job, and because he was guarding a celebrity, he’d been prepared for the partying, but he hadn’t been ready for T.K. Strand. Carlos was starting to see that T.K. wasn’t the type of person anyone could fully be prepared for. He was a mystery, even to his fans. _A very wayward but charming mystery._

Judd had underplayed the job specifications when he’d been trying to get Carlos to take the job in the first place. _He tricked me into a task that no sane man could manage._ “You lied to me, Ryder,” Carlos seethed as he sat in a chair across from Judd, who looked too perky as he sipped a cup of coffee from a mug with Texas’ flag printed on it. The chair shook under Carlos’ weight. _Judd’s lucky there’s a desk between us or I might do something I’d regret._ Carlos usually had a better control over his temper. For all his faults, he was a patient man, but he’d slept a maximum of two hours, and Judd’s misrepresentation of T.K.’s needs only made it more difficult to keep the superstar safe. _And like it or not, I need to keep him safe because I like T.K. He scares me and he frustrates me, but there’s something endearing about him. No wonder the world loves him. One look with those puppy eyes and it’s hard to resist him. But he’s spiraling, and I don’t know how to deal with spiraling._

“I didn’t lie to you.” _Bullshit._ By the way Judd bit his lip, Carlos knew Judd was completely aware of what he had done. _He’s not a dumb cowboy._

“You told me T.K. liked to party too much, not that he was on a self-destructive rampage,” Carlos bit out, arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging as they pressed against his chest. He unfolded his arms because he felt like the muscled jerk from the night before.

Judd laughed. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait until you have to follow him around after a show. That’ll show the very worst of T.K. Strand, and it won’t be easy, but I’m sure you can handle it.”

Carlos shook his head. _I’m not the man for this job. I’m going to fail him._ “I can’t control him.” _No one can._ “He doesn’t listen, and I can’t work with someone who won’t listen. I can’t be responsible for someone’s life if they don’t give two shits about what happens to them.”

Judd waved him off, seeming laidback about the whole situation. “T.K. hates authority, but he wants someone who’ll take care of him. That’s what Mrs. Ryder seems to think, anyways, and she’s never wrong. Just try to push him in the right direction so he makes the wrong decision nine out of ten times instead of ten out of ten. I’m not looking for you to turn T.K. into a saint. Bottom line: keep him alive.”

“What he needs isn’t a bodyguard. He needs to go to rehab and talk about his issues. I’ve never had a client so drawn to danger. He nearly picked up some dude he barely knew who could’ve snapped him in half. He was on some drug— he couldn’t even tell me what— and that guy didn’t give a shit that T.K. was in no state of mind to have sex. If something doesn’t change soon, T.K.’s going to overdose or get himself hurt, and he’s going to do it without giving me much say in the matter.” _I’d never get over the guilt if something happened to him, and the risk of him getting hurt is too high. He is testing fate too much. At the very least, he’s borderline suicidal, and that’s what I know after just one night with him. He could be even worse than I realize._

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Listen, I don’t like the things he gets up to.” Judd grinned a little. “T.K. is like the kid brother I never wanted, and that’s why I keep him as a client. I’m not in it for the money. He makes me good money, sure, but I’d be the first one to suggest he pack up his things and spend a while away from L.A. Unfortunately, T.K. won’t stop chasing the highs until he realizes he’s not chasing anything at all. He’s running away.” _Running away from what?_

“How am I supposed to keep him safe?” Carlos didn’t think it was possible to tame the wildness in someone like T.K. Short of tying T.K. down, there wasn’t much Carlos could do to prevent him from getting himself into trouble. T.K. was an adult, and Carlos couldn’t stop him from doing what he wanted to do. _Most of my clients cared too much about their own lives. Plenty of celebrities do drugs but I’ve never worked for one before who practically dared the drugs to kill them._

Judd shrugged. “Try being his friend. He could use a friend. One who ain’t looking to get ahead.”

Carlos shook his head. _I can’t let myself get any more invested than I already am. I shouldn’t even continue with this job, but I could use the money, and Judd’s made it clear there aren’t many more options for T.K.’s bodyguard._ “It wouldn’t be professional of me to cross those lines, sir. I should keep some distance.” _I’ll get too attached._

Judd gave him a hard look. “Forget whatever you think is professional. T.K. won’t be safe if you treat him like any other client. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but I don’t got a lot of choices after you, kid. Some of the most experienced bodyguards in the world have failed T.K. They up and left when he needed someone who would stick around. He’s not used to counting on people, but I need him to count on you.” _I need him to count on you._ The words echoed through Carlos’ head before hitting him right in the chest.

“And you expect a disgraced ex-cop to somehow do better than all those other guys?” _I’ve barely been a bodyguard for a year and here I am dealing with the case from hell. I’m not ready for this. I’m going to mess this all up. There’s no winning here._

“Helping a friend get answers about her missing sister isn’t a disgrace. Your heart was in a good place, and I respect that. I’m not a fan of cops, anyway. So the disgraced cop is what I like about you. I’ve been known myself to bend the rules to pursue what’s good.”

“Yeah, well I disobeyed my old boss, and I don’t really want to go against my new one just as my career is starting to pick up. I’ll do my job, but I don’t want to do more than that.” _I can’t do more because I care too much. It’s just who I am. I care too much and get myself in trouble._

“I’m sure O’Connor wouldn’t have a problem with you doing what it takes to keep T.K. safe. I’ll talk to him about it if it makes you feel better.”

Carlos sighed. _Figure out how to handle T.K., and I’ll know I’m fit to bodyguard for any client on the planet. If I can do this, I’ll know I made the right career choice._ “I don’t know that I have the patience for a Lost Boy who doesn’t want to grow up.” _But I do like helping people. That’s why I joined the force, and that’s why I’m a bodyguard now. I serve and protect. I help those who need the most help, and T.K. needs help. He needs a lot of help that I can’t give him, but I can help him a little, perhaps. I can show him that it’s okay to lean on someone._

Judd didn’t look like he believed Carlos. “Sometimes, Lost Boys only need to be shown which way is home. Being a hero isn’t about how many thanks you get from those you save. You may never get a single thank you from T.K. He’ll get angry at you too. He’s been angry at me plenty, but I’ve learned that showing him a little goodness can do a lotta good. That tough exterior melts when he sees that you care.” _Caring is his love language. Maybe I can get through to him after all or at least protect him from some of the danger that surrounds him. I just have to learn how to best communicate with him and make him feel safe. I can’t save him, but I can give him a safe space._

 _I can’t turn my back on T.K. Something about this case feels right. A lot feels wrong, but something feels right._ “Fine,” Carlos conceded. “We’ll try it your way. I’ll be there for him as much as I can, but I’m not going to force a friendship if it isn’t there. It’s going to be up to T.K. whether he wants me as a friend, and I don’t think there’s much I can do that will keep him out of trouble.”

“I know that. I only expect you to be a good human, not a superhero.”

“Yeah, well, superheroes have it pretty easy as far as I’m concerned.” _I have to fight for T.K. while also fighting against his self-destruction. For bodyguards, the villains aren’t always easy to spot. Sometimes, the worst villains are imbedded in the innocents, but T.K. is worth the fight._ Carlos likes to think everyone is worth the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I hope you all enjoyed this. Let me know your thoughts and what you want to happen. As always, you can also catch me on tumblr at lonestarbabe. Thanks so much for reading, lovely people.


	4. I'm Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. shouldn't be left alone, so his best friend calls Carlos.

_Don't save me, I'm fine  
_

_I don't need to be right right now_

_In the mood to get high right now_

_Way up I don't wanna come down_

* * *

**T.K.**

* * *

It was a Wednesday, but T.K. didn’t know which one. He only knew that the pool cleaner had been outside earlier. The pool cleaner came on Wednesdays, so it had to be Wednesday. He was almost positive it was March but coming up with the month took a few seconds too long as alcohol and Oxy muted his mind. “Maybe you should slow down a little,” Marjan suggested, looking at T.K. with her usual disapproving look. If T.K. knew she’d planned on coming over, he would have saved the drugs and alcohol for later in the evening. Marjan didn’t consume either, and while she didn’t mind being around people who were drinking or maybe even smoking some weed, she wasn’t shy about telling him why he should avoid those things. _She thinks I’m an addict, but I’m just having fun. As much fun as a miserable person can have, at least._

“Don’t be a killjoy, Marjan.” _She always wants to spoil my fun. Some best friend she is. I don’t need her to look after me, no matter what she thinks. Between her, Judd, and the new bodyguard, I’ll never get a moment to myself._

“Slow down,” Marjan told him again, pulling the bottle of vodka from his hand and putting it out of his reach. “I know you already had pills, and you shouldn’t be mixing that crap together.”

“Okay, Doctor Marwani.”

“I’m a first responder. I know a thing or two about these things, but of course, teen heartthrob T.K. Strand doesn’t like to listen to rules. It’s not cute to be a bad boy anymore.” She sounded annoyed, but her eyes were terrified. _Look what I do to everyone around me. I put them through shit, and I act like an asshole, even though I’d give them literally anything they asked if I could._

“You’re such a rule follower. Are all firefighters as boring as you?” T.K. lamented. “You can’t get anywhere if you go slow. Did Michael Phelps ever slow down?” T.K. added, grabbing a new bottle and watching amber liquid fill his glass. He took the shot of tequila just to prove a point. _Stings more than vodka, and I kind of like it._

“No, he didn’t, and now you see him sitting in an empty pool in those Better Help commercials. Do you want that to be you?” _Yeah, sitting in an empty pool might be pretty fun, but you can’t drown in it. Unless you find something other than water to drown yourself in. Wouldn’t it be funny to drown at the bottom of an empty pool?_

“That’s because he stopped swimming. He let his feelings catch up with him. If you don’t ever stop, nothing can ever catch up to you. That’s why I gotta keep going.”

“Everyone has to stop eventually, T.K. People get old and slow. They can’t win races forever. You just better hope that you’re the one who makes that decision and that it isn’t the universe that steps in and slows you down.”

“Give me too much time to stop and think, and I’ll go crazy. There’s nothing that you, Judd, or any hot bodyguard can do about it.”

“Hot bodyguard? Don’t tell me it’s another Mr. Clean.” Oh, yes, the Mr. Cleans. So many bodyguards he’d had were bald and had an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Clean. He figured Judd just thought those guys looked responsible. Mr. Cleans were attractive, sometimes, but in a one-night stand kind of way. _Let ‘em use you and then clean you away with their magic erasers._

T.K. shook his head. “This one isn’t just hot in an ironic way. He’s an ex-cop.” T.K. had done a quick— two-hour— internet search of Carlos. Carlos kept a pretty low profile, but T.K. had learned enough about him to guess how he ticked. He also knew that he had an ex-boyfriend, so he at least liked men.

“And you say that you don’t have a type. Though, I can’t say a good type.”

“He’s an _ex-_ cop.”

“Still. Once a cop, always a cop.”

“I don’t care what he was or what he is. I’m just saying he’s hot. He hates fun just like you, but he’s hot.”

“Don’t harass him, Tyler Kennedy.”

“Don’t call me Tyler Kennedy, Marjan Marwani.”

“Marwani isn’t even my middle name.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Whatever. It’s not like I’m going to seduce him. I don’t do the chasing. People chase me.”

She looked at him like he was full of shit. “I’ve watched you chase plenty of guys. You practically mauled that big one last week.”

“Fucks, not dates. It’s different.”

“Yeah, because all you care about is having fun, I get it. T.K. Strand can never take anything further than a fuck,” she replied sarcastically. _She doesn’t believe a single word of my bullshit, and that’s something I love and hate about her._

“I choose not to. Dates don’t like hanging out with party boys.”

“The issue is that party boys refuse to stay sober.”

“I’m sober a lot. Far too much for my liking, actually,” T.K. quipped.

“Yeah, I know. That’s exactly my point. You know, I rescue idiots like you every day. People who think they’re just having fun when they’re not having fun at all. They hate what they’re doing. They’re just being dangerous and stupid for no other reason than having a gap they need to fill.”

“I’m not dangerous. I’m safe when I take anything. I don’t run heavy machinery when I’m high— not even my can opener. I’m careful, Marjan.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that damn automatic can opener Judd got you could decapitate a person if they got their head too close.” Her face returned to concerned. “But don’t distract me with the Strand charm. I’m serious, T.K. I’m not worried about you getting other people hurt. I know you wouldn’t get in a car or endanger other people intentionally, but shit still happens. You’re going to do something to yourself that you can’t take back.”

“Maybe I’ll get a Better Help commercial out of it,” he said with a grin. _When I’m washed up and the crowds stop coming to my shows, I’ll be one of those celebrities who has to resort to paid testimonials. I’ll suffer the horrifying ordeal of being known, forgotten, and known again as a relic from a time that had almost been erased from people’s memories. The voice from a song they used to love (or hate)._

She punched him in the arm. “If you don’t shut up…” but she couldn’t help the smile that was on her face. “You look at the world so differently than I do.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure. Why are we even friends? I was trying to date a firefighter, not become best friends with his coworker.”

“Bob was forty-five with a wife and kids. You had to know it was never happening.” Bob had a great dad bod.

“Why should that have stopped me?”

Marjan crossed her arms. “Your daddy issues are showing.”

“I don’t have daddy issues,” T.K. protested. _My dad died a long time ago, and I’m totally over it. It’s not like he left me. He just left and never came back. He hugged me goodbye, went to work, and then just like that, he was gone. It wasn’t fair, but it was nothing he did. He died a hero, and now, there’s no hero left to save me. Not that I need one. I’m fine. Great even. I hate my life, but I’m surrounded by wonderful things. I would be happy if I wasn’t such a dreadful person._

“Your father was a firefighter and you wanted to date a firefighter old enough to be your father. Sounds like daddy issues to me.”

“You don’t get it because you don’t have daddy issues. I wasn’t interested because he was old or a firefighter. It was because he was hot… and looked nothing like my father for your information.”

“I’m just saying you never really dealt with your dad’s death.”

“It’s been two decades! Of course, I dealt with it. Mom made me go to therapy.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t take therapy seriously.”

“It only lasted a couple weeks before I threw a fit and convinced mom it did more harm than good.”

“See, you need to actually address your issues, T.K.”

“When did you get your psychology degree, anyway?”

“First, you tell me I’m not a doctor, and now you tell me I’m not a psychologist. You’re getting very predictable, Teek. And very defensive on top of that.”

“That’s not fair. I can’t say I’m not defensive without being defensive!”

“Sucks to be a loser.” Marjan made it her goal in life to win at everything.

“We all can’t be good at everything like you, Miss Has Gone Viral Eight Times.”

“It was only six, and I don’t think you stop going viral… ever. I always see your annoying face wherever I go— in magazines at grocery stores or billboards. I went on a date once with this girl, and when I went home with her, she had a big poster of you over her bed. Really killed the mood.”

“Any of the guys you dated have a poster of me?”

“One had a bobblehead.”

T.K. cringed. “That’s worse than a poster.”

“How? The poster is a lot bigger. I could shove the bobblehead in a drawer.”

“It’s unofficial merch,” T.K. explained.

“Oh, yes, the dreaded unofficial merch. How will you ever live without your cut of the money? You could have two Porsches by now if only you sold bobbleheads.” He didn’t mention that he could buy more than two Porsches if he wanted because he was sure she already knew that.

“The Barbie doll was nightmare enough. It looked like they glued feathers on my head.”

“I still have that doll. Just for when I need a good laugh.”

Marjan uncrossed her legs and got up to go to the kitchen. “While I wish I could stay to talk, I have a shift in an hour, so I have to go. The captain doesn’t like my attitude as it is, which means being late would take me from his bad list to his firing list.” She shrugged. “It’s not my fault that I’m allergic to poor leadership.”

“That’s one hell of an allergy, Marj,” he shook his head at her. “If you’re trying to leave, the door isn’t in the kitchen. My mind is a little warped right now, but even I know that.”

Marjan put a water glass next to T.K. “I don’t want you to die. The hangover is probably unavoidable. But hydrate.”

“Why do you have to go? I thought your next shift wasn’t until Friday.”

“It _is_ Friday. Hence why I have to go,” she told him impatiently. “Do you pay attention at all?”

“No, the pool cleaner came today. It’s Wednesday.”

“The pool cleaner comes on Thursdays, T.K. He came yesterday.” He checked his phone and saw that yes, it was Friday. _Oof wonder where the time went?_

“Fuck. Why does the week need seven days?”

“That’s it. I’m calling Judd.”

“He’s in Texas with Grace. I’m fine, Marwani. Go to work. Billy the Bully isn’t going to wait.” She sighed, looking torn about leaving him, but T.K. wasn’t going to be the reason Marjan got in trouble. _Just because I can’t keep my shit together doesn’t mean I should drag everyone down into my miserable life.”_

“I’m calling your new bodyguard.”

“No, you’re not.” He didn’t want the only times that Carlos saw him to be when he was indisposed. Carlos probably already hated him, and T.K., as much as he hated bodyguards, did not want to start again with a new bodyguard. If this didn’t work, Judd would probably call in a drill sergeant. _Anyone but Carlos._

“I am. Maybe he can come sit with you for a while.”

“No way. You can’t call him on his day off.”

“There aren’t a lot of options right now. If he says no, he says no.” _She’s so persistent. She won’t take no for an answer. Not with me, not with Carlos._ “He might not be busy. He’s new to town, so he probably hasn’t made a lot of friends yet.”

“I’m not letting a hot guy see me in sweatpants and a hoodie.”

“That’s like your uniform.”

“Yeah, but it’s not for people who haven’t seen the shit show. I don’t want him to think I’m a slob.”

“Oh, so you care about his opinion? Give me his number. You know I won’t leave until you do.” She waited not so patiently for a response. “I guess I could ask Judd. Interrupt his nice trip with his wife, but you won’t make me do that, will you?” _Friends are the worst._

“No, do not bother anyone. I’ll give you the number.” He sighed, fumbling for his phone. “You’re a real psycho, you know that?” Marjan swiped the phone from his hands before he could even unlock it. She punched in the code. _I really need to change that._ “He’s listed under—”

“Hot Body Bodyguard, yeah, I got it,” she chuckled. “You’re so obvious.”

“Delete his number from your phone when you’re done.” He didn’t want Marjan talking to Carlos on the regular. That would be a disaster.

“Do you even know me?” Marjan laughed. “I still have Aaron’s number. This one isn’t going anywhere. I may delete Aaron’s though. I think it’s time.”

“Aaron?” He didn’t know who the hell that was. _Was he somebody I slept with? One of Marjan’s exes?_

“Mr. Clean #3.” _Oh, him. He wasn’t so bad, but not at all personable. Hated the very idea of fun. Treated me like a toddler. Slightly attractive._

“Don’t remind me. He was awful,” T.K. groaned. He flipped his hand in the air to wave her away. “Go to work already.”

“Yeah, okay.” She finished up a couple of texts and stuck her phone in her purse. “I’ll see you later. Probably tomorrow, so don’t get drunk before five. No drugs either. I want you clear-headed. I have boy issues to talk about.”

“I don’t get wasted every night, but okay. Cannot wait for your boy issues.”

Marjan smiled. “Good.” Before heading out the door, she turned to give him one last look. “Seriously, dude, be careful. I’d be really pissed if something happened to you.” Marjan always started throwing in “dude” when her emotions were getting the best of her.

“You’re the one who dives into fires for a living.”

“Yeah, but I do it with equipment. You dive into fires just to see if they’ll burn you.” _She doesn’t understand that sometimes the burn feels better than the numbness._

* * *

**Carlos**

* * *

Carlos’ plans were interrupted by a series of three pings on his phone. He picked his phone up, immediately having a bad feeling when he saw an unknown number. He was used to calls from unfamiliar numbers, but texts were rarer.

> _You need to get to T.K.’s house._
> 
> _This is Marjan by the way. Marjan Marwani._
> 
> _I’m T.K.’s best friend (reluctantly)._

As he read the messages, Carlos stood from his couch, beginning to pace across his floor as his brows scrunched in consternation. This was not how he saw his day off going. _T.K. better not be dead. I’m not going to lose that idiot if I can help it. I told Judd I’d protect him, and I don’t plan on backing down on my promise no matter how irritating T.K. can be._

> **_What? Why? Is something wrong?_ **

Carlos had just settled in from going to the store and was about to call his mom before cracking open a beer and watching TV. He was a worrier, so he couldn’t help thinking that something truly awful had happened. _It can’t be that bad if T.K.’s friend is making jokes,_ Carlos reassured himself, but the chance that things might not be okay twisted Carlos’ stomach. _I’m not going to let some bratty popstar ruin my evening. He’s probably just drunk and looking to do something stupid. I don’t need to deal with this._

> **_Is it an emergency?_ **
> 
> **_I_ ** **’ _m not on duty, so I can’t just go over there if he doesn’t want me to._**

Carlos had a bad feeling that his curiosity and worry would get the best of him, and he’d end up at T.K.’s mansion that was far too large for just one person. T.K. was difficult, but there was also something infectious about him. You couldn’t help but root for him or worry that he might not be okay.

> _He’s drunk and high. He shouldn’t be alone._
> 
> _Please, just stay with him. He hates being alone._
> 
> _I would but my boss is an asshole._
> 
> _Please. Judd is away, and there’s no one else to call. He doesn’t have a lot of real friends._
> 
> **_He doesn’t even like me._ **

There was a thirty-minute delay before another text came in, and Carlos sat in suspense, worrying about all the things that can happen in thirty minutes.

> _Sorry. I was going to work. He likes you fine, and even if he didn’t, he’ll let you in because I told him to._
> 
> **_You’ve got blackmail on him or something? I barely know him, but I know T.K. doesn’t like being told what to do._ **
> 
> _What you need to know about T.K. is that he doesn’t give a damn about himself, but he’d throw himself in a fire after taking a bath in gasoline to make sure the people he loves aren’t hurt._

Well, damn, he couldn’t argue that. Couldn’t say no to someone who clearly loved her friend so much. _Couldn’t say no to T.K._

It would send the wrong message to spend his time off with T.K., but he hated the thought of T.K. overdosing or going out to find assholes to hang out with. _I’ll consider this work._ He hated the thought of T.K. hooking up with some man who would take advantage of him. T.K. was a pain in the ass, but he was also a national treasure. Fangirls would never forgive Carlos if he let something happen to T.K. (He would never forgive himself.) _This job is getting too messy. For whatever reason, I’m already too far in. Captivated by those green eyes and that lopsided smile. I need distance because T.K. Strand is doing his best not to stay alive, and getting too close will set me up for a world of hurt._

He sighed, grabbing his keys from the hook by his door and heading out to his car. He sent Marjan a quick text.

> **_Fine, I’m going over._ **
> 
> _Good. I have to go. My bad boss is calling._
> 
> _Keep him safe._

Carlos wasn’t sure if that last part was a best friend’s threat or a desperate plea, but either way, he didn’t want to screw this assignment up. _I’ll keep him safe._ But he couldn’t make promises because he couldn’t save T.K. from himself no matter how much he wanted to.

> **_I’ll do my best._ **

Putting his car into gear, Carlos backed out and zoomed down the highway until he got to a mansion set apart from the other houses. He wouldn’t admit to anyone how much over the speed limit he had gone. If he’d had sirens, he would have used them. _Fuck T.K. for setting off something inside._

He entered the code at the gate and haphazardly parked his car in the first place he could find. It wasn’t like him to be so impulsive. He liked order and control, and any lack of those things made him antsy, but he didn’t even notice that his car was 1 inch into the grass. He rushed up to the door, thoughts of T.K. being hurt or dead rising into a heart-pounding climax. _What if I’m too late? What if I was too slow? What if I’m powerless to save him? What if I fail at this job?_

The tension dropped from Carlos’ shoulders as he heard the deadbolt click open and saw T.K.’s head when the door swung open. Carlos was instantly relieved to see that T.K. wasn’t unconscious on the floor. T.K. mostly seemed fine.

T.K. gave a long, exaggerated sigh, and Carlos felt his breath momentarily constrict again. He looked good. Anyone with eyes could see that, but Carlos had self-control. He didn’t act like an animal just because he spotted a pretty person. _He’s a ten, but he’s also off-limits. He’s narcissistic and obnoxious. Maybe a little sweet, but he’s not good for me._ _He’s dangerous, and I had enough of that when I was a cop. I flew too close to the sun, but this guy, he’s flying in the center of the sun._

For someone who was supposedly in danger, T.K. looked like he had complete command over his situation. He wore a hot pink and baby blue striped button-down with black skinny jeans that hugged his lean legs in ways Carlos didn’t allow himself to think about too much. He averted his eyes, being sure to look at T.K.’s face, which was just as overwhelming. Carlos noticed T.K.’s eyes were bloodshot with deep bags underneath. _A person can hide under clothes, but the eyes, those emerald eyes, always tell the truth._

T.K. looked markedly too nice for a night in, looking and smelling like he was about to go on a date. Freshly misted cologne hitting Carlos’ nose— vanilla, cinnamon, and sandalwood. There was an underlying bitterness to his scent—cloves— but it was just enough to offset what would be otherwise cloying. “Are you okay?” Carlos finally asked.

“Yeah, but I have a little alcohol and Marjan thinks I’ve gone off the deep end.” _That’s a can of worms that I am not even going to begin to unpack._ “I’m obviously fine.”

“Fine or not, I’m here now. Might be nice to have a little company.” The more Carlos looked at T.K., the less fine he seemed to be. He didn’t seem as outwardly wasted as when they first met, but T.K.’s uncontrollable smile and aimless eyes told Carlos all he needed to know. The blissed-out look was chillingly familiar to him, so much so that he had the instinct to get in his car and speed away, but his sense of duty was too strong, and even as his past chased him, Carlos couldn’t look away from T.K. _Maybe things can be different than they were with Taylor. Maybe not, but how can I in good conscience give up before I try?_ “I’m here,” Carlos reiterated. _And I’m not going anywhere._

“I see that.” T.K. gave him a once over, licking his lips. “And you look very good doing it.” _He’s just a flirt. I can’t let it get to my head. I have to protect him. Not fuck him._ T.K.’s words were dripping with forced pleasantness, and Carlos couldn’t quite figure out what T.K. was really feeling beyond the happy highness. Silence fell between them.

T.K. bit his lip, looking down a little. The mood shifted. “I know you don’t want to be here. Don’t worry, Judd will pay you for your babysitting.” Carlos wanted to argue that he wasn’t here for the money or insist that he did care, but the air between him and T.K. had turned so suddenly sour that words swirled in his head with nothing to ground them into cohesive sentences. The smell of cloves was trapped in his nose and he tried to search for the vanilla and cinnamon, warm and pleasantly biting. “I’m sure Marjan will report back to him when he gets back from his trip. He’ll fret over me because it would be such a shame if I died and couldn’t make him any more money.” T.K. cracked a mechanical grin that clashed with the bitter tone in his voice. “He’d probably be relieved not to have me bothering him.” _He’s got it all wrong, but I can’t tell him that. I barely even know him._

Carlos wanted to shake T.K. and tell him that Judd would be devastated if something happened to him, but he knew if he was too sincere, T.K. would retreat into the safety of humor and lightheartedness. He would become the happy and carefree T.K. that substances created to hide the sorrow. _I have to learn to roll with his jokes and self-deprecation, even hearing it horrifies me._ “I’ve heard that posthumous sales aren’t half bad. The initial spike… might be something to consider,” Carlos replied wryly. When there was more silence, Carlos wondered if he’d made a fatal misstep. _Maybe I don’t have as good of a grasp on the situation as I thought. What if I’m losing him?_

A flash of shock came over T.K.’s face before his lips upturned slightly and his head tilted to the side with curiosity. “You really busting my balls right now?”

Carlos kept the impassive look on his face, forcing his lips not to turn up. “I suppose I am.”

T.K. shook his head, the dark cloud lifting from his features just a little. Back to carefree T.K., and Carlos wasn’t sure if it was for the best or the worse. _I can’t tell if he’s genuinely happy._ “I can’t believe that of all the bodyguards in the bodyguard factory, you’re the one they sent me.” Back to joking, the cold tone dissipated in the early evening air.

“And I can’t believe that of all the popstars in the popstar factory, you’re the one I got sent to,” Carlos countered. He could keep up with banter if he needed to. He could even throw in some harmless flirting if it helped get through to T.K., but he couldn’t cross any lines beyond that. _I know all about how crossing one line can lead to crossing more. I need boundaries if this is going to work. I must be careful for T.K.’s sake and mine._

“Rockstar,” T.K. corrected.

“You don’t sing rock music, popstar,” Carlos reminded him.

“It’s a—”

“State of mind. I know. Now, are you going to let me in? Or do I have to stand out here all evening fighting with you about the definition of a rockstar?”

T.K.’s head tilted again, this time in thought. “I don’t think I have much of a choice. Marjan will kill me if I make you stand on the porch,” T.K. answered, opening the door wider and leading Carlos into the living room. The stench of alcohol immediately hit Carlos’ nose and bottles were sprawled on a chair.

“That’s a lot of bottles,” Carlos commented.

“Some of them are old.” _Some, not all. Not even most. Some._ “It’s funny because sometimes when it’s dark, there’s so many of them there that it almost looks like a person sitting in the chair. I’ve gotten startled a couple of times by it. Sometimes, though, it’s nice not to feel alone.” The honesty of the words struck Carlos. _He’s got so many demons I haven’t even seen yet._ He opened his mouth but quickly closed it again in the absence of having a meaningful response. T.K. caught on to what he had said and backtracked. “I didn’t mean that seriously, you know. It was just a joke. I mean, there are always people around me. Celebrities can’t escape people. I’m not _really_ lonely.” _The only people who feel the need to insist they are not lonely are the ones who are, in fact, lonely._

Carlos forced a laugh. “Right, a joke. You tell a lot of those.”

“Maybe. It’s more fun that way. I’m really funny when I’m _not_ sober, so funny that people think I’m serious. It makes me a man of mystery, I guess.” _Oh yes, a mystery I’m afraid to investigate but desperate to know._

“Speaking of not sober, how much alcohol did you have?” He wanted a grasp on how bad the situation was.

“I’m fine.” Carlos had been a cop. He was used to dodgy answers, but they still frustrated the hell out of him. _He’s testing me. Trying to see if he can make me mad. I won’t let him. I have to be patient and keep my temper in check._

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Fewer than all the bottles on that chair.” T.K. added, “A lot fewer. I’m not trying to die tonight.” _Tonight, that’s what I’m worried about. What about the other nights?_

“How much?” Carlos asked with his no-nonsense cop voice. _It’s been a while since I’ve used that._

T.K. looked unimpressed at the question. “Several shots. I didn’t even have a full bottle of tequila. But shots are just bad if you only do one, so you have to keep going until you feel something. By the time the first one kicks in, you realize that the rest will be by shortly to hit you with a fucking hammer.” Carlos fought the headache that T.K.’s drunken logic was creating. He rubbed a hand across his temple, wiping the sweat and stress from his brow. He forced his facial features to relax. _I need to keep those emotions in their place or else I won’t be able to understand what he’s saying. I have to listen._

“Pills?”

T.K. shrugged, looking at his hands cagily, which gave Carlos a pretty good idea of what he was dealing with. _An addict who will try getting high on pretty much anything._

“T.K., I need to know.” He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do with the information, but it seemed like something he should know in case anything happened. “I’m not here to judge you.”

T.K.’s voice was quiet, and Carlos barely heard it over the murmuring of the central air working hard to cool the huge house. “Some Oxy. My favorite.” Carlos would put that piece of information into the T.K. file that he was compiling in his head, all the things that might come in handy someday when inevitably awful stuff happened.

Yawning, T.K. plopped down onto the couch, and Carlos went to the kitchen and grabbed a recycling bin. He began loading the empty bottles into it. “You don’t have to do that,” T.K. protested. “It’s not your job.”

“I know, but it doesn’t help you to keep these here,” and to be honest, they were driving Carlos a little crazy.

“Why are you so nice?” It sounded like an accusation, skeptical and angry.

“I’m not.” _I’m just bad at sitting around helplessly. I need something to keep me busy, and I hate looking at all those bottles and seeing him like this._ “I like to keep my hands busy.”

T.K. winked, a sloppy wink. “I can think of a better use for those hands.” _Oh, no. He did not just go there._

Carlos panicked. His jaw clenching. “Do not do that.”

“Do what?” T.K. asked as if he was completely innocent.

“Hit on me.”

“You weren’t supposed to be so hot.” _Shut him up. Shut him up!_

“I’m not hot. I’m just a guy, okay? Just a normal guy.”

“Normal, yeah, okay. Did you know that I’m really good with my mouth? I mean more than singing and stuff. I put enough junk in it to know how to use it.” T.K.’s eyes filled with hunger. _He’s not thinking clearly. He doesn’t actually want me. He’s just horny._ Carlos felt like putting his fingers in his ears and screaming “la, la, la, la, la.”

“Stop it. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“But if it was sober? Would you be interested?” _He’s so desperate to be wanted. He doesn’t even care who wants him._

“It would still be a no.”

“Why? Aren’t I attractive?” _Oh yes, far too attractive for your own good._

“It doesn’t matter. I’m your bodyguard. I can’t be blurring those lines.”

T.K. raised his eyebrows. “The more you know my body, the better you can guard it.”

“I said no. You can respect that, can’t you?” Carlos’ voice was agitated. His anger radiated through the room and spread to T.K.

“I don’t force anything on anyone,” T.K.’s voice was sharp. “I wouldn’t want to fuck someone with a stick up his ass anyways.”

“You don’t get to be an asshole just because things don’t go your way. Maybe try facing your feelings instead of getting mad and acting like a diva when any semblance of a bad feeling enters your mind.” _So much for containing my temper._

“Wow, Mr. Nice Guy does have a backbone, after all.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Being an asshole?”

“You’re trying to see how many buttons you can push before I get up, leave, and never come back.”

T.K.’s face fell. “Why does everyone think they have fucking psychology degrees?”

“What?” 

T.K. didn’t explain. “You don’t have to stay. I don’t care either way. I’m happy enough alone. Just leave me alone.”

“I don’t have to leave.” He took a breath. It’d been a long time since he had tried to handle someone so self-defeating and so scared to let anyone get too close. “I don’t want to leave.” Part of him wanted to run for the hills and stop the attachment he was feeling for T.K. Like T.K., Carlos was scared of letting anyone get too close. He was scared of knowing people too well, which was why he’d planned on spending his Friday alone. _But I don’t want to be alone._

“You should want to leave.”

“But I don’t want to.” _If only I could get it through his thick skull that some people just want him around. They don’t care if he is a singer or famous or a party boy. They just want to have him. Judd, Marjan, even me. We want him to be the person he’s happiest being and not this person who can’t stand to look himself in the mirror or the person who never shows the real him because he’s afraid no one will like it._

“What made you so stubborn?” T.K. paused to think. “Or should I say who?” _Don’t think about Taylor. Now’s not the time. No need to make unnecessary comparisons._

Carlos crossed his arms as if it would help him keep all the feelings rushing through his body contained. “I was born a week late and put my mom through eight hours of labor. I was born stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, I was born a good person. Now, I’m a piece of shit, so how we come into this world doesn’t have much to do with how we go out.” _Hopefully, we won’t be going out any time soon. Hopefully, he doesn’t want to._

“What do you like most about yourself?” Carlos asked, and it felt abrupt, but he had wanted to catch T.K. off guard.

“Why does it matter?” T.K. was already defensive, and the question made him more resistant.

“No questions, just tell me.”

“Oh, bossy. I like it,” T.K. said more biting than flirty.

“Favorite part of yourself?” Carlos pushed.

T.K. was quiet for a few moments. His tone softened. “Hard choice there’s so much to like,” he tried to act confident, but Carlos could hear his voice cracking. “but I guess the thing people like most about me is that I’m fun, the life of the party.” _Is that all he’s got?_

“Why is it that you love to talk about yourself until I actually ask you to tell me something about yourself and then all you can talk about is what other people think.”

“Here’s the thing, Carlos. Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not that interesting. I’m not that deep either. I’m just a vapid popstar who people like to think they know.” It sounded like defeat, and Carlos didn’t think the word popstar could ever sound so sad.

“You know what,” Carlos concluded. “Maybe you’re a rockstar after all.” T.K. looked up from his hands, eyes looking hopeful. Then, to make it sound less serious Carlos added, “Rockstar is a state of mind, after all.”

T.K. grinned at the inside joke, perking up a bit and letting a tentative grin appear on his face. “But I do play pop music,” he said. “So, maybe I’d rather be a popstar.” His eyes lingered on Carlos, “That stays between us, though.”

“Okay, popstar,” Carlos said clapping T.K. on the shoulder, and T.K.’s eyes flickered with something Carlos couldn’t quite make out. _There’s so much to learn about T.K. Strand, so much that even his most devoted fans have even discovered. There’s a good person in there beneath all the layers of bravado. You don’t even have to dig that far to find them, but I want to bring that person out. I want to show him that there’s a place for the T.K. who can be happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but I hope to update more frequently now that the show has wrapped up for the season. I hope you enjoyed this. Feel free to let me know your thoughts. Thanks so much for reading.


	5. Drag Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. struggles quite a bit.

_If I didn't have you, there would be nothing left_

_The shell of a man that could never be his best_

_If I didn't have you I'd never see the sun_

_You taught me how to be someone_

* * *

**Carlos**

* * *

Carlos’ stomach had been in knots for a week, tight knots that pulled and tightened every time he moved— the kind of knots that didn’t go away with a new day or a good night’s sleep. Carlos really wasn’t the anxious type. He was calm under pressure and knew how to keep his emotions in check, but ever since he started working with T.K., he’d been different. Michelle, when she called, always said he seemed so different, and he was. This job had changed him in ways that no other job had. Even as a police officer, he hadn’t ever felt disarmed. He’d always had a semblance of control.

It wasn’t so much the fear that he couldn’t handle the job. He was pretty confident about his skills, and he had gotten used to his daily tasks. He was adaptable, so it made it easy to learn what T.K. needed. From the beginning, he knew to carefully learn T.K.’s routine because even though T.K.’s life was fast-paced and chaotic, there was still a rhythm to it that Carlos had gotten in step with. _He’s a creature of habits, even if his habits cause more chaos than order. He likes things a certain way just like we all do. When he acts out, it doesn’t come out of nowhere. His eyes sparkle whenever he sees Marjan, Judd, or Grace._ Carlos tried to piece together what made T.K. tick, the delicate intricacies of what made the popstar human. He absorbed whatever he could about T.K. in hopes that knowledge would make it easier to keep T.K. safe, and for the most part, it was working. _T.K. is still a mystery, but I know more now, and he doesn’t overwhelm me like he used to. I’ve figured out enough not to feel like I’m drowning in two inches of water, but if I’m not careful, I’ll drown in twenty feet._

So, what worried Carlos most was not whether or not he was a good enough bodyguard. He knew he was good, but good or not, things could go dreadfully wrong with a client like T.K., who was impulsive and self-destructive, the worst combination of a client for a bodyguard. Carlos feared the coming changes in T.K’s routine, which would throw everything he’d studied off course. He’d have to reanalyze. _He’s not good with change. T.K. thinks he thrives in chaos, but the more chaotic his life gets, the more unhinged T.K. gets._ T.K. was starting the next leg of his tour soon, and Carlos wasn’t sure what to expect, but he guessed that T.K. wasn’t going to cope well. Screaming fans, long days, and little sleep were the perfect ingredients for a disaster stew, thick and mushed together. Maybe he’d be wrong, and the fast-paced lifestyle would do T.K. good rather than harm.

In addition to concerns about T.K. himself, Carlos also had some apprehensions about his place in T.K.’s world. In his short career as a bodyguard, starting with a series of brief assignments, Carlos mostly bodyguarded for rich businessmen or their heirs. There’d been some movie stars, mostly B-list, and even an A-list singer for a few weeks, but no one he’d ever worked for had as many dedicated fans, and haters, as T.K. did. The whole experience took some getting used to, and based on what he’d seen, Carlos was getting a small following of his own.

Over the few months he’d been working with T.K., fans had begun to recognize Carlos as T.K.’s bodyguard, which had left him panicked and heading straight to Judd’s office. When he’d told Judd about this, Judd had just laughed saying, “Yeah, they know about all the people hangin’ ‘round, T.K. Even Grace once got a fan letter. It was a nice one, thank God. I get not so nice ones myself. They think I’m taking advantage of T.K. or mishandling his career. I even got one saying I was trying to put him back in the closet.”

“That’s crazy,” Carlos had said, eyes wide. He didn’t closely follow any celebrities (other than the ones he had to protect), so seeing T.K.’s fans being so dedicated felt like a bucket of icy water being dumped on his head.

In response, Judd had shrugged, “That’s the life. You can’t let it get to you. They know your name now, Carlos, and you can’t run away from that. They know anyone who gets close to T.K. Most of them are harmless. They just love T.K. a lot. Like I love football.” _Sounds like the perfect culture for stalkers._

“Doesn’t that impede my ability to protect him?” Carlos had asked, half wanting a chance to run away from the insanity that had become his life. _But I couldn’t do that to T.K. He needs me, and I need this job to prove that I’m more than a police force reject. I need redemption just as much as T.K. needs protection. This is the biggest chance I’m going to get, and if I blow it, it’s going to end badly for everyone. Especially T.K._

“Nah, you just have to keep doing what you’ve been doing. Protect T.K. as best as you can. Don’t start signing autographs.” _Why would I ever do that? “_ One of his bodyguards got a little fame-hungry and did that. T.K. nearly got mobbed by a group of fans. I fired that idiot the second T.K. was safely home, no thanks to his bodyguard.” Carlos didn’t think it was necessary to mention that he’d feel too stupid signing autographs to even consider doing something so careless. With that stunning bit of advice, Judd had sent Carlos back into the world of screaming fans, and Carlos did the best he could with the situation he’d been given.

It was mortifying each time a fan seemed to know something about Carlos that they shouldn’t have known. Like when one had first called Carlos by his name. That had been a shock. Thankfully, his social media was already private, but he’d already gotten a bunch of requests on Instagram from a deluge of obsessed fans. Carlos’ brother-in-law had even sent him a fanfic in which he’d been written into a hot bodyguard romance. Carlos had clicked out before it had gotten to the steamy bits, feeling embarrassed and exposed. _I didn’t sign up to be known._

On his way over to T.K.’s house, he swung by to his favorite bakery and picked up a box of doughnuts. As he held them in his hand, walking up to T.K.’s door, he felt a little stupid. He didn’t even know if T.K. liked doughnuts, or if T.K. had already had breakfast, but knowing T.K., the popstar had probably just rolled out of bed ten minutes before.

T.K. immediately saw the box and his face lit up. “Are those doughnuts?” he asked as if he’d just spotted a unicorn.

“Yeah?”

“Oh my god, you’re the best. I haven’t had doughnuts since… I don’t even know when.” Carlos had them most Saturdays. They were his big weekend treat. He worked out enough and ate a balanced diet, so he didn’t feel bad about splurging on some treats every once in a while.

“Because you don’t get up early enough for breakfast?” Carlos guessed.

“That and my old manager was a bitch about me eating junk food. She also wanted me to wear skinny jeans so tiny that I’m still trying to figure out how I got them past my ankles. Judd’s let me loosen them up a bit.” T.K. laughed. “I could wear overalls and Judd wouldn’t care. Or a pirate costume.” Carlos couldn’t imagine T.K.’s jeans being any tighter. _I can’t let my mind go there._ They already looked like they were painted on, the dark fabric stretched over muscled thighs. _How could I not notice the black fabric clinging to those lean, long legs?_

Carlos opened the box to show T.K. the array of treats, offering him first dibs, and, of course, T.K. chose the most colorful doughnut in the box with pink icing and sprinkles. Carlos smirked at him. “You didn’t even ask what flavor it is.”

T.K. shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The prettier the doughnut, the better the taste. This one has the most sprinkles. It has to be good.”

“Is that so?” Carlos hoped the sparkle in his eyes wasn’t too obvious. T.K. had a way of making Carlos feel good, and in the time they’d known each other, Carlos had learned that while T.K. was miserable, moody, and maudlin when he was under the influence, he was impish, witty, and sweet when he was sober. It was no wonder he had so many fans because he possessed that infectiousness that so few people had. When he was present, he could make the night seem like it was day. Carlos wanted to be around that T.K., the one who made Carlos’ job easier and who treated Carlos as a friend. It was the other T.K., the spoiled, selfish, suffering superstar who troubled Carlos. Because T.K. was none of those things. Those were just the qualities that popped out when he was running scared.

“I don’t make the rules.” Carlos tried to avert his eyes as T.K. poked his tongue out, licking at the doughnut in practiced swirls. _For the love of god, T.K., just eat the doughnut._ Something mischievous flickered in T.K.’s emerald eyes as his eyes met Carlos’ and he took an exaggerated bite into the doughnut, moaning as dough and cream oozed into his mouth and past the corner of his lips. He licked the filling off as he chewed, giggling a bit in a way that Carlos couldn’t help but be endeared by. _Who gave him the right to be so cute?_ “Oh, yeah. That’s good. So good. I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Carlos shook his head. “Hurry up. We’re going to be late for your rehearsals.”

“How am I supposed to polish off that box of doughnuts when you’re rushing me?”

Carlos picked out a doughnut for himself. “You don’t get the whole box to yourself,” Carlos warned, but he let T.K. have another one. _I’d let him have them all if he asked._ This one had maple icing and fewer sprinkles, but it looked just as good. “Hey, I thought you liked sprinkles,” Carlos teased.

T.K. stuffed the doughnut in his mouth and said between chews, “I’m versatile.” _I’ll bet he is._

“You’re gross, that’s what you are.” A glob of filling sat on T.K.’s face next to his lips, and it nagged at Carlos. Carlos pointed to his own face in the same spot. “You’ve got a little something…” T.K. tried to get it but couldn’t quite pinpoint the right spot. “Here let me,” Carlos picked up a napkin and dabbed the spot off T.K.’s face. T.K.’s eyes widened at the touch and Carlos felt a jolt of electricity between them. T.K. quickly neutralized his expression, but as Carlos pulled the napkin away, Carlos immediately regretted his actions. He crossed a boundary that he shouldn’t have crossed, and the stirring in Carlos’ stomach made him revert to awkwardness when he’d finally grown comfortable around T.K., sober T.K. at least. Addicted T.K. would always be hard to see.

Being the superstar that he was, T.K. didn’t miss a beat and seemed unaffected by the moment between them. He was used to people blurring his boundaries. He let them have their way too often, Carlos had noticed. T.K. too often allowed other people to push him past his comfort zone, especially when he has a substance running through his body. Hookups tried to get their way with him. Fans tried to get to know intimate details about him. The media pried into anything they could build a story around. Carlos wondered if T.K. forgot that people needed boundaries to feel safe and happy. Carlos sure did, and T.K.’s world had made those boundaries feel like they were shrinking in on him at times.

T.K. brushed the crumbs from his hands. “Come on, big guy, I have rehearsal.” T.K. wasn’t a timely person, but he took rehearsals seriously, Carlos knew. He didn’t want to let fans down, so he wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize his performance.

Carlos nodded, “Let’s go.” _Before I blur any more boundaries. Focus on your job, Carlos. Keep T.K. safe._

To Carlos’ relief, the rehearsal was calm, the kind of pre-tour monotony he’d grown to appreciate in its levelness. In his line of work, those repetitive, predictable days were the ones to be cherished. Carlos could breathe easily on such days. Those days fueled him. T.K. smiling his way through rehearsal and chatting with the crew never failed to make Carlos feel sunny. Those days energized him for the ones ahead, the ones he knew wouldn’t be so easy.

The best days were when Carlos could report to Michelle that absolutely nothing had happened because those were the days when Carlos didn’t stay up at night wondering if T.K. was okay. When you spend so much time with someone, it’s hard not to get attached. _Especially when they’ve got the ebullience and complexity of T.K. Strand. He’s not the kind of guy who you can look away from. Even if sometimes you feel like you’re staring straight into the sun._

* * *

**T.K.**

* * *

After rehearsal, T.K. had an interview with a radio show, and as he sat down for the eponymous Peter Jenkins show, everything started smoothly, but T.K. was careful with what he said because Jenkins was notorious for being an asshole who stuck his head where he had no business sticking it. The interview started with quick introductions like most of them do, and while T.K. was guarded, he answered the basic questions about his new single, his coming tour dates, and whether he’d thought of the next album yet (he was always thinking about the next album). He’d also gotten the basic personal questions that everyone wanted to know. Love life stuff, which T.K. didn’t have much to report back on. Jenkins seemed displeased about T.K.’s lack of a meaty answer, so he doubled down. “Word around town is that you’re pretty into the club scene.” It wasn’t exactly a secret that T.K. liked to party, but he stiffened at the question. _This is not what I’m here for. Why can’t they just let me stick to talking about the music?_

Answering questions was a delicate procedure. Celebrities didn’t get enough credit for the art of interviewing. The issue was that there was no way to please everyone. Some fans would support him while others would type call-out posts about how he had become a shitty person since he became famous. _The truth is that I was always a shitty person. I just have more means to be shitty now._ Others would hate on him, no matter what he said or did, just for the sake of hating on him. Answer too much, and he’d get hate for the things he said, and answer too little and he’d get hate for “trying to be mysterious” and “being too close-off.”

“Is there a question in there?” T.K. replied, and it sounded a little too harsh and confrontational, so forced a laugh to make it look like he was just fooling around. _I’m just a popstar who makes jokes about everything. I never take anything too seriously. I just go with the flow and try to make my bodyguard, manager, and best friend as cranky as possible in the process._ T.K. looks over to Judd, who is standing nearby with Carlos, and Judd looks as though he’s ready to step in and end the interview if he needs, but T.K. gives a small head shake. _The last thing I need is to look like a diva who storms out of interviews._

“You’re just like other celebrities who get famous young. You did well for a while, and now you’re spinning out.” There still wasn’t a question there, and T.K. didn’t think he wanted one. _I will not punch Jenkins’ smug face…I will not punch Jenkins’ smug face… I will not punch Jenkins’ smug face…_ Self-control wasn’t one of T.K.’s specialties, but he’d dealt with many old, white men who didn’t take him seriously and thought his sexuality was somehow wrong. _Why did I ever agree to this interview? Judd said he didn’t think I should do it. But I’d wanted to expand my demographic._

 _I’m not spinning out,_ he wanted to protest, but that wasn’t true. He’d been spinning out since 2001. That’s how he ended up in the music business in the first place. He’s been a little kid, angry and wasting his anxious energy on delinquencies that set his mom on edge— stealing candy from the store, scribbling angry words on the walls, drawing disturbing pictures of his dead dad. Fearing that he might get violent, his mom had introduced him to music, and music had calmed the madness in his mind. It distracted him from it, at least, but nothing had ever made that madness go away.

T.K. wanted to set Jenkins straight. He wanted to say, _Yeah, I’m spinning out, but not because I’m famous, but because I feel like an exposed nerve all the time and I hate what my life has become. I didn’t ask to be famous. I didn’t want everyone to scream my name. I just wanted to get some of my pain off my chest. Sometimes, I wish my mom never got me a guitar because that guitar— the fame, the fortune, my whole life— those were consolation prizes. She basically said, “I can’t give you your dad, so go play some music and leave alone because I can’t deal with a miscreant kid on top of everything else,” and so that damn guitar, my music, kept me less lonely, but it couldn’t bring back what I lost. It couldn’t heal the goddamn hole in my heart._ But he couldn’t say that answer because it would scream that he was spinning out, and while spinning out might sell albums, it was a private matter nevertheless.

“I’m just having fun,” T.K. said, putting on an award-winning smile. “Nothing wrong with that.” _Except that I don’t remember half of what I do, and most of the time, I can’t have fun unless I have a substance first, but other than that, I’m absolutely having the time of my life. I’m not at all lonely or sad or angry or disappointed or troubled._

“I’m not judging,” Jenkins insisted, raising his hands in surrender, and it was different than when Carlos says he’s not judging. It was the “I want to see the car crash kind of not judging.” T.K. fought the eye roll he felt pressing against his eyeballs. _I’ve never seen someone so full of shit._

“Is there a point to this?” T.K. asked as patiently as he could, but he knows instantly it’s a stupid thing to say. _Twitter stans will destroy each other over this._

“I’m just wondering…” Jenkins hesitated, and when an asshole like that hesitates, that’s when you should run away as fast as you can because that brief hesitation is the only escape you are going to get from whatever attack is about to happen. “If rumors are true, you’ve been doing a lot of drugs and having a lot of sex.”

“I don’t—”

Jenkins chuckles. “Don’t worry, boy scout. I’m not asking you to confirm or deny. You’re too media trained to give it to me straight, anyway.”

“Then—” T.K. couldn’t figure out where Jenkins was going, and that was always scary in an interview. He’d been through some bad ones, so he didn’t worry too much. _I can handle this. There’s nothing he can ask that I haven’t been asked before._ He was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t going to admit defeat on this one.

“What I’m asking is,” Jenkins doesn’t pause this time. “Don’t you think your dad would be ashamed of what you’ve become?” T.K. didn’t hear anything after that, and he couldn’t tell if it was because the room had gone silent or because his senses had become hazy. The room had frozen, and only Jenkins seemed to be immune to the emotional frenzy that was taking place around him. Even Jenkins’ producer, Anette, looked like she wanted to end the show right then. _I need to do something. Say something._

Judd was having heated words with Anette, probably putting an end to the interview as calmly as he could, but T.K. gave him another look, one that said, “Don’t make a fuss.” Judd loved to fuss over T.K., and most of the time, it wasn’t so bad, but T.K. didn’t want this interview to end on Jenkins’ terms.

“I wouldn’t know. He’s been dead most of my life,” and he doesn’t even try to keep a professional tone. His voice sounds detached, and even though he knows it has to be his, he doesn’t recognize it. The world is blurry and distant, and T.K. feels unground like he’s floating in space with no chance of ever returning. He hates when he gets like this. It makes him scared and angry and anxious. Except when he’s high. When he’s high he’s floaty without the bad parts of being floaty.

Jenkins was notorious for pushing people to their breaking points. You would think it would make his show self-destruct, but Jenkins’ audience loved the way he “tells it as he sees it,” which was code for saying “I like that he’s a cruel bully.” T.K. could talk a lot about things he didn’t want to talk about, but dad-talk was not something he could endure, especially talk about _his_ dad.

“He was a hero. You have to think he might be disappointed in some of your choices?”

“You know, I used to want to be a firefighter,” T.K. told Jenkins, and he wasn’t sure why he was sharing this precious information other than passive-aggressive spiting. _You want me to make a scene? Well, I’ll make a scene. I’ll give you exactly what you want and more._

“Oh, really? What happened to that dream? Did you realize it wasn’t glamorous enough for you?” His voice was so condescending that T.K. could feel himself losing what control he had left.

“I used to want to be a firefighter until I realized that being a dead hero sucked. Now, I sometimes wish I was a dead hero because at least then I wouldn’t have to put up with all this bullshit,” and with that, he did what he said he wasn’t going to and flung off his head phones and stormed away from fucking Peter Jenkins. T.K. could imagine the headlines: _Unihinged T.K. Strand Disrespects Dead Firefighter Father in Dramatic Breakdown_

Judd caught up with T.K. first, and T.K. knew it was bad when Judd didn’t even try to lecture him as they went down the hall to the door. Carlos was behind them, quietly watching over with scrunched eyebrows. _He thinks I’m a freak now. Just as I was starting to get on his good side._

“I’m sorry,” T.K. said when they finally get in Judd’s car. Judd’s hands grip the steering wheel.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“I couldn’t have reacted much worse. Twitter fans and Tumblr fans and fucking Instagram fans are probably all having meltdowns over this. For the love of god, who let me have vocal cords. I couldn’t just have my fucking meltdown in private.” _This is turning into T.K.’s big breakdown part two._

“T.K. calm down. This is no doubt going to get a lot of attention, but this isn’t going to ruin your career.”

“They’re going to cancel me!”

“They’re not, kid. Everyone knows Jenkins is a bastard. I’m going to take care of this. We’ve handled worse.” Like the girl who claimed to be pregnant with T.K.’s baby. _No, this is still worse._ “I’m more worried about how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine!” T.K. insisted, but his hands shook and he just wanted some Oxy or anything else that would take the edge off because things were getting too complicated, and Carlos was dead quiet beside him, which made T.K. worry he’d broken his poor bodyguard who was far from a chatterbox but was good at keeping up a conversation. 

“T.K., you said some pretty—” Judd sounded concerned.

“Is this about that dead hero line? Because I didn’t mean it like _that_.”

“You picked up on what I was trying to say pretty fast.”

“Because I know how your cowboy brain works.”

“I think you should see someone about all this,” Judd replied, and T.K. knows he said it right then because it was harder for T.K. to lash out in a moving car. He couldn’t storm away. That’s for sure.

T.K. looked over at Carlos, feeling humiliated that he was hearing all this. “Judd, no. You know that kind of thing isn’t for me.”

“You know I’m not a talking kinda guy, but it can’t hurt to try. Just once a week. You can even do virtual sessions if you like.”

“I just want to curl up in bed and never come out,” T.K. said stubbornly, unlocking his phone and scrolling through Twitter. He should have started on Tumblr. They’re less harsh there. Or harsh in a way that didn’t make T.K. feel as crazy. “I’m doomed. The things people are saying! I’m never going to live this down.” His mom had also tried calling him three times, and he knew that as soon she got done with her shift that Marjan would not just be calling, but she’d be knocking down his door, and if he wasn’t home, she’d find him. She always found him, no matter how hard he was trying to hide.

Carlos snatched T.K.’s phone from his hands. “That’s enough of that.” It was a relief to hear him speak, but T.K. felt red anger surge through him.

“That’s my property!”

“And it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“I’m not going to throw myself off a cliff just because people said mean things about me.”

“T.K.!” he heard Judd exclaim, and just like that, T.K. felt his chest tighten and couldn’t hold back the sobbing that had been creeping up on him ever since he was at the studio.

Judd watched him when he could, looking back using the rearview mirror, but he didn’t say anything. Carlos looked like he didn’t know what to do, and T.K. felt like an idiot because _no one likes a crybaby._

“My dad would hate me if he knew me,” T.K. confessed to no one in particular, but he figured that it couldn’t hurt to be honest about how he felt. After all, he’d confessed a lot more on live radio that would be recorded and saved for posterity. _No point in having secrets anymore. Might as well live up to my potential as a fucked up popstar._

“Your dad wouldn’t be ashamed of you, T.K.,” Carlos said, and his eyes looked so sincere. He was the kind of person who wouldn’t say a nice thing if he didn’t mean it, but he also somehow always found a nice thing to say.

Judd added, “He’s right you know. You mean a lot to a lot of people.” _Yeah, I mean a whole lot to all the people who want what I can give, but don’t care about who I am. Very few people know who I really am. Most of the others, I’m fooling, and probably now, I’m not fooling them anymore. Everyone is going to realize I was never worth their time. When tour comes along, I’ll be playing to empty arenas, but it could be worse. How? I don’t know, but there has to be something worse than this, and it will probably happen to me next week._

“Everything I touch turns to disaster,” T.K. sputtered. “I’m so sick of it. All I wanted was to play music because how else was I supposed to survive? But now the music all sounds flat, and it feels like it’s never going to sound right again.” T.K. didn’t know what he was saying. His mouth was moving too fast for him to process his words, but it felt good to let them all out. Maybe Judd’s therapy idea wasn’t such a bad one. T.K. wouldn’t have to change anything. He could just have someone to vent to. He wouldn’t have to listen to anything a professional said.

“That’s not true,” Carlos said, and T.K. realized that Carlos was rubbing circles on his back. It had been so long since someone had done that. Maybe since his father had died. His mom had done her best, but she’d struggled with her grief, and she’d had to balance a lot more than she was ready to balance. She worked more and hired people to keep T.K. busy— music teachers, tutors he didn’t need, housekeepers who had better things to do than be bothered by grubby little kids with a penchant for mischief.

“Maybe I do need therapy.” It took a lot out of him to say that, but the realization had struck him out of nowhere, and now, it wouldn’t go away. _It can’t hurt anything other than my pride, so what if it’s a waste of time. I’m going to have a lot of time on my hands when no one wants to see me sing._

Judd looked pleased. “I’ll get you a list of possible candidates you can look over.” Knowing Judd, he’d create a carefully curated list that had he vetted himself.

“I could have my assistant do that,” T.K. offered. “Or I could do it myself.” He figured he shouldn’t keep expecting people to do stuff for him.

“That’s okay. I know you’re going through a lot, and with the tour, you’ll be busy. I can handle it myself if you want me to. Grace may know some good people.”

“That would be good. She’d find people a simple google search never would.” T.K. smiled thinking about Grace. She always had a fondness for T.K., and he had a fondness for her. He explained to Carlos, “Grace knows a lot of people. If you need a recommendation for hiring someone, she can give you a whole list of the best people for the job. I don’t know how she does it.”

Judd smiled proudly. “My wife is a good listener. That’s how she does it.” He made eye contact with Carlos in the rearview mirror. “Carlos seems like a good listener too.” _Yeah, and that’s what I’m afraid of._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but here's another chapter. Someday, I will be good at updating! Thanks for reading. Catch me at lonestarbabe on tumblr!


	6. Levitating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. is feeling better. A little.

_I had a premonition_

_That we fell into a rhythm_

_Where the music_

_Don't stop for life_

* * *

**Carlos**

* * *

The tour had been going well to Carlos’ surprise. Carlos had thought that might cancel it and send T.K. to rehab after the disastrous interview with that bastard Jenkins, but after vowing to never leave his house again in a fit of humiliation and self-hate, T.K. came around and had been adamant about not letting Jenkins drag him down. The story had been all over for weeks, enduring longer than most stories about T.K. did. Judd had been especially anxious. He’d had to make a lot of calls for damage control, and even when the calls were done, Judd still worried about T.K.’s mental health. T.K. had gone through a detox, which had been seven days of hell as the withdrawal symptoms took hold. Getting the drugs out of T.K.'s system and keeping them out was only the start of healing. Judd insisted T.K. see someone about his feelings and had sent Carlos to hang out with T.K. on several occasions when Judd had business to attend to or Marjan was at work. Marjan had been practically living there. For once, T.K. didn’t seem to mind the hovering.

T.K. hadn’t wanted to face the world, Carlos had decided that T.K. could lock himself in his mansion all he wanted, but he couldn’t lock himself away from the people who cared about him, including Carlos because somewhere along the way, maybe pretty much right away, Carlos had learned to like T.K. Sometimes, he’d liked him for unfathomable things. Yet, T.K. was one of those people who was fun to be around when he wasn’t getting high and fucking dudes who used him like he was a piece of meat. After a few days of warranted upset, T.K. decided to take charge of his life, and he had Carlos bring him to Judd for an action plan. T.K. had gotten so sick after that meeting; after a night of wallowing, he’d decided that he wasn’t going to touch substances again. He was going to cut them all out cold turkey, and while Carlos was skeptical, T.K. seemed resolved to do it. _Maybe too resolved. I know better than anyone that people who seem better aren’t always better. Taylor wasn’t, and he was smiling more than ever._

Taylor was a completely different situation, and Carlos didn’t want to draw parallels where they didn’t belong. _I don’t even want to think about Taylor._ He didn’t want to project his past issues onto T.K. because that would only prevent him from doing his job, but even so, he didn’t want to let himself get too comfortable. From a young age, when there was little that he could control, he’d learned that the key to having control was being vigilant, not having too much hope, and expecting the worst. _It’s a sucky outlook on life, but it’s the only one that I’ve got. I just need to remember that T.K. is not Taylor. He’s just a client, a client that I have soft spot for, but I can’t act like I have any right to get too involved._

They’d only been to five stops so far, but T.K. had been a delight in an alarming way, which had made Carlos feel like he was an episode of the Twilight Zone because Judd had explicitly said that tour T.K. was a nightmare, but the tour T.K. he’d seen was eerily dreamy. Carlos had gone to Judd about it, thinking that maybe T.K. was only acting so strange because it was the beginning of the tour. As was true every time that he went to Judd, Judd had basically patted him on the shoulder and told Carlos that he was doing excellent work. He’d shrugged and said, “Maybe it’s the new therapist,” which was also weird to Carlos. T.K. had accepted Grace’s carefully compiled lists of therapists without even making a snarky comment. He’d said thanks and gave Judd a big smile despite the way his hands been shaking. Sometimes the scariest problems were the ones that you couldn’t see. _I can’t protect him from things he doesn’t share no matter how hard I try._

Carlos was hanging out around T.K. in T.K.’s dressing room, and it wasn’t because he needed to be there. He had other security measures that he could tend to, but they had a whole security team who would make sure things were taken care of, and T.K. had asked him to be there. For whatever reason, Carlos couldn’t find it in him to say that he was busy or that he didn’t think it was a good idea to get any more buddy-buddy than they already are. He’d relented when T.K. smiled at him. _How pathetic is that? Disarmed by a single smile._ Carlos couldn’t help that a happy T.K. was kind of the best person in the world.

Some of T.K.’s friends were there too. Well, Marjan and some of her friends from work who had tagged along to see T.K. at the LA show. They all seemed like cool people. He and Marjan had already gotten to know each other, and she was a good influence on T.K. Paul and Mateo seemed like upright people too. They told a bunch of stories about the calls they got, most of them regarding idiots who got hurt or set accidental fires. Carlos had stories of his own to share, excluding any names of course. He hadn’t had a lot of gigs but any one of them came with a funny story or two.

T.K. quietly listened, looking at ease. He didn’t add any stories of his own, even at Paul’s prodding. “Come on, you’re like the most popular singer in the world right now, and you don’t have any good stories.”

Marjan rolled her eyes. “Don’t get him started. Once T.K. starts talking about himself, he doesn’t stop.”

“Hey,” T.K. replied lightly, “that’s not true.”

Mateo nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t heard him say one thing about himself.” It wasn’t that T.K. had been a silent wallflower, but Carlos had noticed it too. He said a lot without saying much at all. Sometimes, when he was feeling out of his element, T.K. would only give vague details about himself, and maybe it was because he had to be careful about who he told what, but Marjan’s friends were probably safe. If they ever blabbed, Marjan would probably make sure that they never spoke again. They seemed earnest too, and while Carlos couldn’t just look at someone and know that they were okay, he had a pretty good eye for people who just wanted something and those who were sincere. His dad had been the former type, so he knew a thing or two about people who were just nice when they wanted you to do something for them without returning the favor. _Dad convinced me to miss my prom to help him with one of his schemes, and then he couldn’t even show up to my high school graduation._

“What can I say? I lead a boring life.” He slung his arm over Carlos’ shoulder. T.K. loved casual touches, and they drove Carlos crazy in an “I need more” kind of way. It would be so easy to get engulfed in the ocean that is T.K. Strand.

“Oh come on, Strand,” Marjan said. “Tell them about the time you spilled tea on the Queen of England.”

“Wait what?” Mateo asked, eyes widening. Carlos had heard that story once when T.K. was high. T.K. had been laughing his ass off and Carlos had just been trying to keep him from doing anything harmful.

Paul added in, “You really let us talk about a dude getting his junk stuck in a piece of wood when you spilled tea on the Queen of England.” He was laughing heartily at the thought.

“That story is a lot better than meeting a rich old lady. I’m pretty boring, believe it or not.” _And I’m Swedish royalty._ If T.K. was boring, Carlos’ job would have been a lot easier.

“It’s not as funny as that time you tripped going onto the stage at the VMA’s.”

“Marjan, did you really have to bring up my most humiliating moment?” By the way, T.K. was grinning, Carlos didn’t think he was all that humiliated by it.

Carlos nudged T.K. with his elbow, “You nearly fell _off_ the stage Wednesday when you were singing _Bitter Honey_.”

“That was bad, but that’s not more humiliating than when you puked on stage?”

“I didn’t puke on stage. I went off stage.”

“Everyone could still see you, Strand.”

“I was what? Fifteen? I was doing my best.” Carlos couldn’t imagine being under the public eye at fifteen.

“Ouch. Fifteen is a hard age for everyone,” Mateo said.

“Being fifteen sucks,” Paul commented, a darkness in his eyes.

“It sure does,” T.K. agreed. Carlos nodded. A lot of shit had happened when Carlos was fifteen. A lot of shit happened every other year as well, but at fifteen, things have a way of feeling extra shitty. Fifteen had been when Carlos had told his parents that he was gay, and honestly, nothing had changed. They didn’t care about him enough to care that he was gay. T.K. glanced at Carlos, looking nervous.

“I came out when I was fifteen,” Carlos said without thinking. It wasn’t like T.K. didn’t know that Carlos was gay, but they’d never much talked about gayness, so it felt strange to Carlos to talk about it, and maybe that meant that he wasn’t talking about it enough.

“I was eighteen,” T.K. said. Technically, T.K. hadn’t come out, he’d been outed by a thirty-year-old asshole who he’d been “dating,” Carlos used the word lightly because clearly a thirty-year-old with a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old didn’t feel right. T.K. hadn’t even gotten his GED yet. The news about T.K. being gay had been everywhere. Even Carlos had heard about it, and Michelle always joked about his lack of pop culture awareness. “I don’t know if I could’ve handled being out at fifteen. My career might have plummeted.”

“When I realized I was bi a few years ago, I thought it was the end of the world. I thought that there was no reason to come out, but I’m so grateful that I had a best friend who shook some sense into me.” She gave T.K. a fist bump. “Now, I can’t believe I didn’t know I was sooner.”

“Accepting yourself can be the hardest part. My parents were very accepting of all kinds of people, so I think they would have been okay with me being trans, but even then, coming out felt like the worst thing in the world. My parents died in a crash before I told them, and it still kind of haunts me that I didn’t. But it is what it is.” The conversation was taking a dark tone, but T.K. seemed more interested in this than anything else.

T.K. gave a sympathetic look, face growing weary. “Sorry man, that sucks. It’s hard when you don’t have time to tell people what you need to say. I wish I’d been able to tell my…um… my dad, but sometimes life doesn’t give you that choice, and it never doesn’t suck.”

Marjan looked to Carlos, sagging slightly. She and Carlos are both concerned. They both know that the word dad doesn’t roll off T.K.’s tongue easily, and the feeling in the room shifts because of it. It’s gotten quiet and T.K.’s easy-going demeanor has receded just enough that Carlos is starting to feel anxious. One little thing can easily cause T.K. to spiral, and T.K.’s been okay lately, but he may be living on borrowed happiness. _Don’t let this be an incident. Take charge of this before you lose control of the situation, Carlos._ T.K. was getting fidgety, and Carlos was scrambling to find a way to calm him.

“Marj, don’t go all quiet on me. A little dead dad talk isn’t going to throw me over the edge.” _Except it did last time his dad was mentioned._ T.K.’s not angry, not right now, probably because Paul and Mateo were in the room, but his tone was too forced and sounds passive aggressively angry. Basically, everyone knew to tread carefully. _I need to defuse this situation before it gets worse._ If T.K. caught the uncomfortable glances that Paul and Mateo were sharing, he’d freak out, so Carlos called T.K.’s name, making T.K. look over to him. T.K.’s eyes snap over, looking frantic.

“I know that,” Marjan answered, but she didn’t sound sure, and with all Marjan’s confidence, when she didn’t sound sure, she wasn’t.

Carlos made a show of looking at his watch. “You need to get ready for the show now. It’s getting late.”

Marjan caught on, and stood up, leaning down to hug T.K. “Teek, I’ll talk to you after the show, okay? Maybe we can meet up at your house or you can come to mine.”

T.K. nodded, calming at the touch of his friend. “Yeah, okay, we can do that.”

Paul gave T.K. a handshake. “Thanks so much for the tickets, man. We’ve all been curious about Marjan’s best friend. You lived up to our expectations.”

Mateo gave a wave. “Yeah, maybe later you can tell us the queen story.”

T.K. put on his fakest smile. “Sure thing, buddy.” Carlos could see that T.K. was going to another place mentally, so he rushed the guests out, giving T.K. room to breathe.

Marjan lingered just a bit longer, giving Carlos a stern look, “Take care of him.”

“It’s my job,” he said.

“It better be more than that,” Marjan replied. _It is. I’m probably in for a world of hurt, but I’d take care of him even if I wasn’t paid to do it. I want him to be happy, and I do my best to make him feel happy._

* * *

**T.K**

* * *

T.K. wasn’t as stupid as some people thought he was. He might have played stupid a lot because it was easier to get what you wanted when people thought you’re barely smarter than a pile of bricks. He’d gotten a lot of good info by acting dumb. Judd would tell him to cut it out. Marjan would usually let him get away with it just to see the amusing results that always came. Carlos would give a knowing look, not making a judgment in either direction.

Because he wasn’t a complete idiot, he knew what Carlos was doing as he swiftly moved T.K.’s guests out of his dressing room, and to his surprise, it made him feel relieved more than annoyed. _Maybe I’m a changed man, after all. Or maybe I’m just getting too attached._ The new T.K. apparently was into letting people meddle with his life, and if he apparently let his bodyguard be more than a nuisance who followed him around, who could blame him? Carlos seemed to care about him. Like, he’d bring pink-frosted doughnuts in the morning just because T.K. liked them, and when Carlos brought them, T.K. liked them even more. It was like the sprinkle phenomenon. Just like doughnuts tasted better with sprinkles, they tasted better when hot bodyguards hand-delivered them just because they were thinking about you.

It made T.K. feel pathetic that the doughnuts made him so happy. Carlos was just being nice because he was a nice guy, and doing nice things was just what he did. _It’s not because I matter to him. He only cares because if something happens to me, he’s out of a job, and from what he’s said, this is the most prestigious job he’s had. I don’t want to ruin his career. He deserves a better client than me, though. Someone who isn’t a fuck up._ He was probably just as nice to everyone else. _I’m just too self-absorbed to notice that the world doesn’t revolve around me._ But, still, the doughnuts made T.K. feel special. _Even if Carlos is just being nice._ There was something about little things like remembering someone’s name or bringing someone doughnuts. Those little things made people feel good just because they were thoughtful.

“I don’t need to start getting ready for thirty-minutes,” T.K. commented just to say something. He hated how he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. He babbled and yelled and sang just because he didn’t know how to be silent, didn’t know how to sit with the quiet and not go crazy; therefore, he didn’t know how to control his mouth. Most of the time, his mouth was autonomous from the rest of him. _I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying half the time. I’m just shooting the breeze until there’s no air left for anyone else._

Carlos gave an apologetic look, and it was so cute. _My heart might just melt if I’m around him too long._ “Are you mad?”

“No, most people wouldn’t have done that. They wouldn’t have even noticed that I needed a break.” _He’s so nice. How can I be that nice?_

“It’s my job to notice what you need without you having to say it.” That wasn’t in his job description, but T.K. wasn’t going to argue it.

“I don’t know why I’m so triggered by my dead dad. It’s been years.”

“There’s not a timeline on grief.” Tell that to his mom, who went back to work in two days and acted like giving T.K. a guitar would make up for not having a dad. Tell that to the psychiatrist who told him that he couldn’t grieve forever or the one who had told him that ten years was too long to still feel so bad. They hadn’t lasted long.

Honestly, everyone who told him to get over it was probably right. It wasn’t healthy to live in that day forever. To think about his father burning to death when it hadn’t even been the flames that had killed Owen. It had been shrapnel. But still, T.K. imagined skin being charred and falling from his dad’s body, and he just wanted the image to go away. He wanted to stop feeling so scared because that’s what he’d felt since 9/11, a hot fear that he converted into anger because he was too old to cry about how terrified he was. He remembered his mother telling him when he was eleven that he was too old to cry about nightmares. He refused to cry about them after, even though he had to bite his wrist just to distract from the torment he felt. He learned to bring the feelings inward and to destroy himself for fleeting moments of peace.

“Yeah, but I can’t even say the word dad without feeling sick, and hearing it sends a fresh wave of guilt through me.” T.K had this _stupid_ idea that if he hadn’t been such a brat the evening before 9/11 and kept his parents up until 3 am that his dad would have been better rested and would have been able to do his job better _and not die._ Logically, he knew that lots of people with kids who weren’t brats died that day. Lots of well-rested, unlucky people, but T.K was never able to shake the idea that his father’s death had something to do with him. He’d never confessed that fear to anyone, and maybe that was why it was killing him, draining him of his ability to keep his head in reality.

He’d prefer his mind to float away. He loved the detached feeling of not being at all connected to himself, and as fine as he acted to anyone who glanced at him, he couldn’t stop thinking about oxy. It made him sick with yearning just to think of oxy or E or LSD, or K, or G or whatever other combination of senseless letters would let him out of his head, a prickly, electrified cage that made him feel small and claustrophobic.

“Guilt?” Carlos looked at him, face pinched. T.K. figured Carlos saw him as a puzzle. He wanted to know what T.K. meant because it was interesting in a perverse way. Everyone wanted to know why a man who had everything but a dad couldn’t get his shit together. Some people had less but had somehow managed to hang onto their sanity. They didn’t crave an oxy every time a pang of feeling clawed at their gut.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant sorrow.” T.K. didn’t think that he sounded very convincing, but Carlos wasn’t going to press it. It wasn’t his style. T.K. needed to focus on his show, and bringing up deeply rooted childhood issues wasn’t exactly going to make him feel energized. Though, to be honest, before all of this had happened, he’d been good about being happy. He’d been bubbly and fun and felt almost normal, but then in a snap, that bright, fun to be around self had shut off. _It’s like I’m too different people. One who likes the peaks of roller coasters and another who likes the valleys._

“I still miss my dad,” Carlos confessed, and T.K. held his breath. _The dead dad’s club is not a fun one to be in._

T.K. felt flushed. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry for your loss.” It sounded so stupid to say. T.K. had always hated when people said that to him because it never made him feel any differently. Them being sorry couldn’t change his loss or even heal it.

“He’s not dead or anything. I just haven’t seen him in five years.” Carlos shrugged. “So, I don’t think he’s dead, but I can’t know how he is. But cutting him off was something I had to do.” T.K. had to take a deep breath not to lash out. If his dad was alive, he wouldn’t ever stop talking to him. Even if he was the worse dad in the world. “I know it’s not the same, but it sucks.”

“Then, why won’t you talk to him?” T.K. tried to keep his voice calm, but he sounded like an angry kid on the verge of a tantrum.

“Because as much as I love him, he can’t bring me inner peace. He only keeps me around when he needs something, so I decided not to make myself available, but I still miss him sometimes. He was mean and abusive, but he’s not like a villain you see on a TV show. He had good in him, even if it was just a very little bit. He used to take me fishing. I hated it, but I loved the time I got to spend with him. We’d fish, and suddenly, he’d become dad of the year. Then, we’d go home and he’d tell me I couldn’t do anything right.”

“I’m sorry. Sounds like having a dad brings heartbreak, dead or deadbeat.”

“My point is just that you don’t have to stop missing him. You don’t have to stop thinking it’s unfair that you don’t have him here. You don’t have to stop cherishing his memory, but you do have to learn to live with it.”

“Yeah, thanks, Freud.”

“I’m sure your therapist would say it better,” Carlos joked. T.K. felt guilty because he had taken the therapist list Grace had made for him and shredded it after one visit with the first woman on the list. He’d had video visits with her twice before the in-person one that helped him decide that he didn’t need that anymore. He started to feel better. The withdrawal symptoms had gone. He felt more in control of his life, so he’d decided that he didn’t need anyone doing a deep dive into his brain. He’d figured it all out himself. No professional needed. No AA, NA, or whatever other program was out there. All he needed was his guitar and to stay away from parties. There was a part of T.K. that knew he was being foolish. He’d gotten sober before like this when he just decided to stop and get his life together, but every time, when the going got tough, T.K. usually figured it was time to quit the good habits that made life bearable.

“Yeah, she’d give a bunch of psychobabble.” Dr. Aggarwal probably wouldn’t have done that. Despite T.K’s stubbornness, Grace’s search had been thorough and she’d chosen people who wouldn’t give psychobabble. _Maybe I did do some research before I shredded the list._

“Are you okay with that?”

T.K. shrugged, “I’m getting used to it. I think this one is actually helping. It’s going to be a journey, but I think this might be something good.” He hated lying to Carlos. _I’m such a dumb, jerk._ But the truth wasn’t going to make Carlos feel better. It wasn’t going to change the situation. It wasn’t going to do anything but sit there like the biggest know-it-all in a room full of know-it-alls.

Carlos beamed, and T.K. wanted to disappear. _I hate myself for being such a weirdo. I’m the worst person alive. Carlos deserves better than me._ “That’s great. I’m glad you’re starting to feel better.”

The more T.K. lied about feeling better the worst he felt. “Yeah me too.” He forced a smile. “Me being better is only going to make your job easier.”

Carlos laughed. “I have a feeling that you’ll never make it too easy.” _I can’t make anything easy. I always have to take the hardest route as if that will somehow cure all the awful feelings that I have when it does nothing but make me an angry wreck._

“What would be the fun in that?” Carlos laughed again, and T.K. felt himself relax. T.K. thought that if a laugh could save a person that he’d be saved, but laughter couldn’t save him. It would be like using cough medicine for a bullet wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	7. Paralyzed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. and Carlos both face their pasts.

_When did I become so numb?_

_When did I lose I myself?_

_All the words that leave my tongue_

_Feel like they came from someone else_

* * *

**T.K.**

* * *

T.K.’s day didn’t start well. When he woke up at eight am because of his phone vibrating against his nightstand, he knew that he was getting up on the wrong side of the bed. He had every intention of not answering, but when he saw that it was mom, he picked up right away. _This conversation will end one of two ways: she’ll lie about looking forward to my show tonight or she’ll make an excuse why she can’t come to the show tonight._

“Mom?” T.K. asked in case he’d somehow misread the caller ID. She didn’t usually call him. She was more of an email person. He’d tried to get her to convert to text, but she said that she already had to send emails for business anyway so it was easier to use one platform. She was one of the few women in America who didn’t want to text him; yet, she was the one who he wanted to text him the most.

“Hi, honey,” she said, and her apologetic tone made T.K.’s heart sink. _It’s happening again. Not even my own mom wants to see me. She’d do anything in her power to avoid me because I’m an awful son who she got stuck with._

“When is your flight coming in?” he asked, a hint of wishful thinking in his voice. _I’m such a fool. I should know better than to hope. Hope only leads to heartbreak._

“About that…” her voice was sad and slow. It had been that way since 9/11, at least to T.K. She sounded more normal at work functions. It made T.K. wonder what was wrong with him. _Why am I the one who my mom can’t stand?_

“You’re not coming,” T.K. confirmed, and he wondered whether she didn’t want to come because of a bout of depression or because she wasn’t interested in his career.

He imagined the way she was probably biting her lip and giving him that look she always gave him as a child and she told him that he couldn’t have something that he wanted. He didn’t expect much from her anymore.

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I just have a work thing that I can’t miss.” A work thing usually didn’t mean she _actually_ had a work thing. When she had actual work things, she was always more specific. She loved talking about her job, so when she avoided talking about it, T.K. knew that she was overcompensating for lying.

She always did this, and he let her because she was a grown woman, and he was a grown man. They both had lives of their own, and if their lives didn’t align, that’s just how it would have to be. He’d learned to deal with it, but the sting never went away. He felt it each time she rejected his attempts at having a relationship with her. He couldn’t help but think about how unfair it was that he lost his dad and that he had also lost his mother too. She used to dote on him when he was little. She cheered him on in his kindergarten play. She made him costumes for Halloween. She did everything a mom should do and more, and then she stopped doing all that. She ditched whatever mom duties she could get away with.

After 9/11, he’d spent the whole summer with his dad’s parents, and she’d barely called him. He’d cry until he was sick on those balmy nights because he missed his family, and his whole world felt unsteady. His mom said it was good for him to get out of the city for a while, but even though it had been attacked, the city still comforted T.K. Wounded or not, it was still his home, and his mom was in it, and it made T.K. terrified to not be able to see that she was okay. He followed her around for an entire month after he’d returned home. He’d cry each day when she’d go for work. When school started, he’d go to the nurse’s office and beg one of the nurses to call his mother to pick him up. Eventually, she stopped showing up, so the nurses would give him some soda and crackers until he’d calmed down enough to go back to class.

Whenever his mom went anywhere, he worried that she would never come back. Her brow would furrow as he threw another fit and begged her not to go. “I have to go to work, honey,” she would say, tired and lost without Owen. “Please, don’t make a big deal of this.” But T.K. was too scared not to throw a fit. If she never left, he never had to worry about her not coming back.

_Maybe I exhausted her too much then. I was too clingy, and she got tired of me being around. Maybe that’s why she needs so much space._

“It’s fine.” This was all _fine_. He wasn’t a kid, so he didn’t need his mom there, and she’d been to plenty of shows before. It wasn’t like she was missing anything that special. _But she told me that she would be there._ T.K. had been looking forward to seeing her all week. They didn’t get a lot of time to talk, and he’d imagined how nice it would be to have her around for a few hours. He’d gotten his hopes up, something that he should have known better than to do _because when you get your hopes up, you can only ever be disappointed._

“Are you sure? Maybe I can catch a later flight and see you after your show.”

“No, it’s okay.” He wasn’t going to make her come if she didn’t want to. “I’ll be tired, and there’s no point flying out just for one night.”

He wanted her to protest and say that it wouldn’t be a bother to fly out to see him for a few hours, but he heard her sigh in relief. “We’ll get together another time.” _I’m just a bother._

“Any stop on tour I can get you tickets for? I’ll pay for accommodations too.” _I’d do anything in my power to get her to a show, but no amount of cajoling will sway her._

“I wouldn’t want to intrude. I know how boys your age like to go out and have fun. I wouldn’t want to ruin that.” If she knew anything, she would know that he only liked to “go out and have fun” when he wanted to forget. It wasn’t something he did for recreation. It was a need. Something he had to do to get out of his head. Before he could answer, she said, “Well, I better go. I have a meeting soon.” He didn’t care to think about who she was meeting so early when he factored in the time difference.

“Yeah, me too.” _I have a meeting with self-pity._

“I love you.” Those words sounded different when they were an apology.

T.K. held back a sigh. “I love you too.” T.K. hung up, and he plopped back in bed. He wished he could go back to sleep and never wake up. Maybe his mom would show up at his funeral. _Nothing draws a crowd quite like the final show._

* * *

**Carlos**

* * *

Carlos’ day started with his air conditioning breaking. He was woken by a huge clunk, and in his drowsy state, it took him fifteen minutes to realize that the noise had come from the vent in his living room. The air conditioning sputtered and then came to a halt. Carlos was surrounded by an uncomfortable silence. He’d gotten used to the sound of the air conditioning always being on, and the quiet had always put him on high alert because when things were too quiet, that’s when life started to crash and burn. With his limited knowledge, he tried to get the air conditioning to work, but the couple of YouTube videos he watched and the wikiHow hadn’t gotten him very far.

He was sweating with the exertion of a job not well done when the doorbell rang. Carlos groaned. _Who is bothering me this early?_ His first instinct was to think T.K., but it was 9 am, and T.K. didn’t get up that early if he didn’t have to. It was a show day, though, and everything is different on show day. T.K. sometimes had too much energy to sleep in on show day. _It has to be T.K.,_ Carlos assured himself because he hadn’t had the time to make a relationship with anyone else. There’d been a one night stand when he’d first arrived for the job, but that hadn’t been satisfying, and he hadn’t had the care to hook up with any other guys since. _I have my hands full with protecting T.K._ He’d always been a workaholic; why should things be any different now?

Certain that it was T.K. dropping in to visit him, as T.K. did from time to time when he was bored and needed entertainment, he didn’t even look through the peephole to see who was at the door. As a former police officer and a bodyguard, he should have known better, but he was hot and tired, making it hard to think straight and he wanted to hurry up and deal with whoever it was.

He swung the door open, “Hey,” and the sight of the willowy blonde woman in front of him nearly knocked Carlos off his feet. “Emma? What are you doing here?”

She didn’t wait for him to ask her inside. She brushed past him and sat on the couch, patting the cushion beside her like she owned the place. “We need to talk.” Emma had always been bold, and she had always expected the world to bend to her will. _Until everything with Taylor happened and there was nothing she could do to make the situation better._

“It’s been a long time.” Carlos wasn’t sure why she had popped up now. There were plenty of times when he still lived in Austin that she could have come for a visit, but she’d been giving him the silent treatment then. He chose to sit in the chair next to the couch, leaving more room between him and Emma. They had never been that close. They had only ever known each other because of Taylor. Even then, they hadn’t been more than acquaintances.

“Michelle’s still looking for her sister.” Emma’s hate for Michelle was probably a big reason why she and Carlos had never become more than two people forced to spend time together.

“She’ll never stop, and you wouldn’t either if it was someone important to you who was missing.” For all her faults, Emma was loyal to the people she loved. She’d do anything for them, which was probably why she’d come all the way to LA to see Carlos. “You’re here for your brother.”

“I’ll never forgive her for dragging you into that whole thing.” Emma hadn’t ever been concerned about Carlos. It was more like she had been concerned about what the Iris situation had done to Taylor because of Carlos. “That was the beginning of the end. If you’d never gotten fired—”

“Emma, stop. That’s not what happened. Things were tumultuous before that. Me getting fired didn’t make Taylor do what he did.”

“Michelle makes things worse. She pokes at the fire until it explodes.” More than that, Michelle was a healer, and she did whatever she could to help people. She could become obsessive, but so could Carlos, which was why they got along so well. They both were dedicated to get what they want and protect people from suffering.

“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s my friend, and I offered to help.” It was true that he’d offered his help only after Michelle had begged him to do something, but he had loved Iris too, so he didn’t need much convincing. He wanted to know what happened to her nearly as much as Michelle. “I would have done it for any friend who needed me.”

“She ruined your career.” His career had been ruined for reasons much more complicated than going against orders, but it wasn’t something he’d ever talked much about. _What would be the point?_ Carlos knew that if he had been a white, straight man that his superiors would have let his transgressions slide, but he wasn’t, so one strike and he was out. They’d been glad to get rid of him. Austin was liberal, but there was still bigotry and corruption in its systems. Other officers could commit cold-blooded murder while he’d tried to find a lost life and had been punished for it.

“I was the one who investigated a case I was told to drop.” He had been a young cop, so he’d had no business acting like a detective, but no one else was looking. What else was he supposed to do?

“We all know it was Michelle’s idea.” Emma acted like Carlos was just a puppy who had no autonomy. _I make my own decisions. I may let other people influence me, but no one can force me to do something I don’t want or something that I don’t believe in._

“That doesn’t matter,” which was true. Carlos took responsibility for his actions. He couldn’t excuse away what he’d done just because someone else had suggested it. He didn’t even regret his actions. “What are you here for Emma?”

“Taylor isn’t doing well. I want you to come to Austin and visit him. I think it would lift his spirits.”

“I think that would send the wrong message.” He wouldn’t want to get Taylor’s hopes up when he had no intention of being part of his life again.

“You’re the love of his life,” Emma looked desperate, and he felt for her, but he couldn’t help her.

“That’s exactly why it would send the wrong message because he’s not mine. Not anymore.” Carlos wasn’t sure that he ever loved Taylor as deeply as Taylor loved him. Carlos had cared for Taylor, but their relationship was unbalanced.

“You can fake it for just a little while. He’s going crazy without you.”

“He broke up with me, not the other way around,” which had allowed Carlos to get away from Texas and start bodyguarding in LA. It was a blessing in disguise, even if he didn’t consciously realize it then.

“You weren’t going to stay with him.” That was probably true, even though Carlos would never admit it. Their relationship had been through too much, and it wasn’t going to survive everything else. Carlos had needed to get away from Taylor for his own sanity, so he’d been relieved when Taylor had broken up with him. _There was never a future with Taylor,_ he reminded himself.

“I was never given the chance.” With everything that had happened between them, there was no reason to think that they would have been able to keep going, but he still wondered sometimes.

Emma crossed her arms and gave him a disbelieving look. “I’m not here to argue about your intentions or what might have happened. All I want is for you to talk to him. He’s been depressed.”

“That’s nothing new. Listen, Emma. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, but I can’t be responsible for his mental health.” _Not anymore. I need to protect my own mental health. I can’t save anyone by destroying myself._

“Whatever happened to your hero complex?” Emma’s voice was cold, and he knew that she was trying to get a rise out of him. She knew how Carlos was, and she knew how to put his head in a bad place. He didn’t have time for this.

“We were toxic together, Emma. Why would you want us back in the same room?” _I can’t let Taylor back in. I get lost in Taylor’s bubble, and I can’t let that happen again._

“Because I want Taylor to stay alive. I’m worried what he’s going to do to himself.”

“He’s in jail. There’s not much I can do to help him.”

“It’s your fault that he’s in there.” The words stung. _Maybe she’s right._ As much as Carlos knew that Taylor’s actions weren’t his fault, he still felt guilty about everything that happened. He wondered if he made different choices that things might’ve been different. _I couldn’t help Taylor when he needed me the most. I let him down, and the damage that has been done can never be erased._

“He got himself there. I had nothing to do with it,” Carlos replied firmly, but the anxious, doubtful feeling in Carlos’ chest made him wonder if he was only fooling himself. Even when he’d said his goodbyes to Emma and ushered her away from his life yet again, he knew that his bad mood wouldn’t lift easily because the guilt still nagged at him. He still feared that he hadn’t done enough to save Taylor. _Maybe I have no business trying to save anyone._

* * *

**T.K.**

* * *

T.K. tried to let the change the bright sunshine change his mind, but the feeling of disappointment and rejection lingered as he went about his day, and he knew that he needed to snap out of it because he wasn’t going to be able to perform if he had a rain cloud over his head for the whole damn show. He’d been resisting temptation since the morning. He’d done pretty well, reminding himself that he needed to keep his shit together, but the more he tried to avoid doing something stupid, the more he imagined doing that stupid thing, and the only way to stop thinking about doing drugs was to do drugs. _I don’t want to have to think anymore._

It was only 2 pm, but he knew that he wasn’t going to get through this day without a little something extra. If he took something now, he’d probably be okay for his show at seven. Mellower. Happier. _Hopefully._ He’d be able to stop thinking so much about how he was unloved by and unimportant to his own mother _and anyone else who has had the displeasure of knowing me. The only people who like me are the ones who don’t know that much about me. My fans think I’m great, but they don’t know that I only ever ruin things. The world would be better off with me in it, but here I am. Still here. Still suffering. Still a fuck up._

Before he could think better of it, he swallowed an upper, as covertly as he could, because he’d sworn off narcotics. At least for a while. He knew if he took opioids that any lingering sobriety was a goner, and he was not ready to break that barrier yet. He remembered the withdrawal he’d gone through before, and he dreaded having to go through that again, but the temptation was still strong in his head. _I want that feeling even if I know it is not wise._

He’d been pretty good about being sober, facing the world with a clarity that made him feel like he was a ball bouncing two inches from a cliff. Most of the time, he managed, but sometimes he just couldn’t stand it. His body itched to be filled. When it came to oxy, it was more than just a psychological itch. It was a physical need. The withdrawal made him sick when he didn’t have it, which was why he was trying to replace that physical dependency with the casual use of party drugs that didn’t leave him feeling like shit when he didn’t have them. Nothing was as good as oxy, but E was pretty good. It was _something_ , and it would keep his brain from spiraling too much. _I really want an oxy. What if I just have one?_ One was one too many, he knew. If he gave in, he’d keep giving in. He had some control of himself with the stimulants, at least he liked to think that he did, but when it came to oxycodone, he had no resistance. _But just this one. I can do it just this once._ The semblance of control was devastating for an addict.

The restless feeling in the pit of T.K.’s stomach didn’t go away right away, but as the drug hit his bloodstream, his brain started to feel like cotton balls. _I need to find Carlos and tell him how good I feel right now._ He wanted to share his happiness. _Because I like Carlos so much. I want to be someone who he could like back, but that’s not who I am. Too much has happened for me to be anything more than a nuisance. I’m awful, but he’s still so good to me. He treats me with dignity even if I don’t deserve it. He has such a nice smile too. He’s handsome. He’s strong. He’s brave. He’d make a really good hero. If only he could save me._

It took him fifteen minutes to find Carlos around the venue. T.K. had searched everywhere, and there weren’t a lot of places that Carlos could be, but T.K. kept getting distracted. His thoughts were fragmented, but he was too high to care. When he finally saw Carlos, he felt accomplished, and when Carlos saw T.K., he grinned. T.K. beamed back, feeling so happy to be the object of Carlos’ attention, even if just for a moment. _I never want him to look away._ T.K. had feelings for Carlos that he would never address when he was sober.

T.K. couldn’t help but throw his arm around Carlos’ shoulder. _I want to be close to him. I don’t feel close to people often._ The feel of Carlos’ sturdy body under T.K.’s arm made T.K. forget all the gapping distance in his life. “You’re so nice, Carlos. You always make sure I’m okay, and you make me laugh when everything seems unfunny.” _I love him so much._ “I never have to worry when I’m near you. I always hate it when you go away. I hate it when anyone goes away.”

“What are you talking about?” Carlos said distractedly, paying closer attention to the security briefing he was reading than T.K. He didn’t notice the glossiness in T.K.’s eyes or how he was clearly having a mental breakdown muted by a pill that made everything feel good even though life was so gray. _Maybe it’s better that way._

“I just really like you because you don’t act like I’m the gum on the bottom of your shoe. I’m, like, the gum in your mouth. You know, a fresh piece of gum that you actually enjoy. Not the gum after an hour when it tastes like nothing and makes your jaw hurt. You make me feel like the five seconds of delight you get from bubblegum.” It was as close to a love confession as T.K. could come. He didn’t even know if what he was feeling was love or admiration. Whatever it was, he didn’t want Carlos to leave him. He’d be devastated when he did _because he will. Sooner or later everyone leaves._

Carlos looked up, freezing when he saw T.K. As Carlos’ expression changed, T.K. shrunk in on himself. _Maybe he can look away just this once. I don’t want him to see me like this— high, crazy, broken._ T.K. felt a sudden pang of shame. He wished he could vanish and take back the words that he’d said to Carlos. _They’re too honest. Too insane. I shouldn’t fall in love, or admiration, so fast. I barely know anything about him other than that he’s nice to me. It’s pathetic to love someone just because they don’t treat you like shit._

* * *

**Carlos**

* * *

Carlos narrowed his eyes, looking T.K. over, and now that he was paying attention, he could tell that T.K. was not okay. He was on something. _I should have noticed that something was off sooner. It’s my job to protect him, and I can’t do that when he’s so set on hurting himself._ “You’re high,” Carlos stated. There was no questioning or doubt in his tone. This was not what Carlos wanted to deal with when he came to work. He was already reeling from his visit with Emma, and now T.K. was on a path of self-destruction, and Carlos didn’t know how to deal with it. _How am I supposed to help him? How do I keep him safe from himself?_

“I’m not,” T.K. refuted, and his voice sounded weak. “Please, Carlos, you have to believe me. I know I’m acting weird but…” he trailed off, excuses failing to be fabricated. _I knew he wasn’t going to get better overnight. This shouldn’t have caught me off guard. I should be better prepared for this. I should know what to say, but I don’t. I just want to shake him and hope that sense settles into his brain and slaughters all the mental illness. That’s not how it works, though. I am powerless. All I can do is stand here and hope that he’s okay. Just like I did with Taylor. I couldn’t control Taylor just like I can’t control T.K._ If it were any other client other than T.K., Carlos wouldn’t have felt so strongly. T.K. hit all the right buttons that made Carlos want to shield him from all bad things in the world. _I have feelings for him, unprofessional ones, and I’m worried that I have them because of Taylor. T.K.’s so different from Taylor, but he’s just the same in all the wrong ways._

“It’s a show night, T.K.” Carlos doesn’t want to scold him, but he can’t help the chiding that comes. “You can’t go on like that.” But he’ll have to, and Carlos thinks darkly that he probably has experience playing off being high on stage. T.K. had said he didn’t go on stage high, but Carlos didn’t know if he believed. They had a few hours before showtime, at least, but whatever it was could outlast the time they had remaining.

“I didn’t—"

“Don’t lie to me,” Carlos spat out. T.K. bit his lip, and Carlos could see the hesitance on his face. “Lying to me is only going to make me angrier,” and Carlos knew that he needed to hold in his temper. He could feel all the feelings of this day bubbling up and threatening to burst from his body in a slimy, filthy goo of past and present worries culminating into one nasty monster. He tried to keep his tone down, but he was being as loud as he could be without drawing attention to them. He needed T.K. to know that this situation was serious. It wasn’t something Carlos was going to ignore the next day when T.K. had sobered up and was acting normal again.

“Fine, I am. I’m high. What’s it to you? You’re my bodyguard. Not my mom or even my manager.” _I care, dumbass,_ he wanted to say, but he couldn’t form those words on his tongue between all the anxiety and fear that were forming words of their own.

“Why can’t you get it through your thick skull that I am here to keep you safe, and if you’re high, I can’t do that. You’re making it impossible to do my job, T.K. I didn’t sign up to care what you do in your personal life, but I am getting paid to keep you safe. If you’re going to mess up your life, at least do it on your own time, and don’t drag me into it. I like this job, and I want to keep it.” _I like you, and I want to keep you._

T.K. froze, looking startled, and he looked like he was going to try to return a nasty remark, but his mouth opened, and then it closed again. _I’m such a jerk._ T.K. looked like he might cry, and Carlos couldn’t blame him. Carlos had long ago trained himself not to cry when the hot bubbles of sadness, fear, and frustration pricked at his eyes, but when he was alone, he cried a lot, letting the feeling vacate his body like soda from a shaken bottle.

Carlos couldn’t take the silence so he continued on his tirade. “You have so many people rooting for you, but then you go and do things like this. You can’t keep doing the same old things and expect that the people around you aren’t going to be impacted. You’re entitled to your feelings, but everyone else has feelings too, and you never seem to consider those.”

“That’s not how it is,” T.K. tried to argue, but Carlos was already fired up, and he couldn’t be reasoned with.

“It is, T.K. You hurt other people with your actions, and I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, but you’re unhappy, and you’re dragging everyone down with you. I don’t want to be unhappy.” _I’ve worked too hard to get away from my unhappiness to go back._

* * *

**T.K.**

* * *

“Stop yelling at me,” T.K. said because he couldn’t take the way Carlos’ words made him feel. Every insecurity T.K. had about being too selfish, too needy, and a waste of space was amping up, and the cloudy happiness of his high was clearing with Carlos’ words, but he was still high enough that the pain of what Carlos was saying wouldn’t strike him until later when his show was over and he had time to think without the assistance of Ecstasy. When he sobered up, Carlos’ words would hurt more than T.K. would ever admit. _I must pretend like things don’t hurt because denial is a substance nearly as strong as a pill._ “It’s just a relapse.”

“Don’t minimize this. You’re fucking up your life. You have a show, and you can’t just go around popping pills when you have a job to do.” _I’m just a job to him. I am the gum on the bottom of his shoe, after all. I’m the unsatisfying bubble gum that has lost all its flavor. He’s no different than anyone else. He doesn’t know me, and he doesn’t care to know me. He just follows me around and sees most of my life, but he doesn’t care to look at me more than he has to. I’m just a junkie who is useless and ruins everyone’s life._

“Not for like four and a half hours,” which was a bad excuse considering that once T.K. took a drug, his whole day was set up to be unproductive. He couldn’t get his head screwed back on once he went down the addiction rabbit hole.

“You need to stop this shit.” T.K. hated being lectured. The person who had a right to lecture him was dead, and he didn’t want to care about what anyone else thought. _Still caught up on my dead dad._

“It’s not that easy.” Trying to be sober was one of the hardest things that T.K. had ever done. It wasn’t like he could just decide to stop and be done with it. It took time and too much effort. Being mentally healthy required the energy that being mentally ill had taken.

Carlos’ face softened. “I know it’s not, but you still need to try. You can’t keep acting like you’re invincible. This could kill you.” T.K. logically knew that Carlos’ hard words were because he was worried, but that didn’t stop the thoughts of inadequacy from clumping in his head like a blood clot.

“I know that.”

“But you don’t take this seriously.” He couldn’t take anything too seriously without having to do self-analysis that he wasn’t ready to do.

“I do. I went to the therapist that you and Judd wanted me to see.” That was sort of a lie, but _Carlos doesn’t need to know that._

“Yeah, but are you putting the work in, T.K.? Are you trying to do better? Or are you going through the motions?”

“This is my first relapse. It’s not even oxy. There’s no need to freak out.”

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

“What did you take?” T.K. didn’t see how it mattered because it’s not like he could do anything about it now.

“Who cares?” _No one should. There’s no reason to care about someone like me._

Carlos gritted his teeth. “I care.” It made him feel like a loser, but hearing the words, “I care,” did something to T.K. It melted some of the rage and stubbornness he was feeling, and it made him want to confess everything to Carlos. To be vulnerable. But only for a second.

“Ecstasy.” He hadn’t premeditated taking it, but he had kept a stash of it just in case. _So, maybe it had been more planned than I realized._

“That isn’t good for you either.” _That’s the whole point! I like destruction. I like being wasted. I like wasting my life. Maybe my misery will end sooner this way._

“I don’t fucking care.” _I care, but I can’t let myself care. Caring only brings pain, and I’ve had enough pain in my life. People have had it worse than me without ruining their lives, and I can’t understand how they do it. I’m not strong enough to be like them. I’m weak, and I’m a loser charading to the world as someone who matters. But I don’t matter, and no matter how many hit songs I have, I never will because no one will ever know the real me._

T.K. felt a surge of rage fill him, and he didn’t know what to do with it. It was going to consume him, and before he could think better of it, T.K. punched the wall, and with the drugs, he didn’t feel the strong as much as he might've, but he could see spots of blood on his knuckles where the skin had been peeled off. Carlos’ eyes grew wide, and without saying anything, he dragged T.K. into the bathroom and sat him down on the closed toilet seat.

* * *

**Carlos**

* * *

The day had gone from annoying to horrendous, and it seemed to keep getting worse. _I shouldn’t have yelled at him. I’m such an asshole. He’s an addict. I can’t expect that he’ll get instantly better. I know how addiction works, and I know how hard it can be to stop using a substance._ Carlos hated seeing T.K. go through this. It never got easier to see someone important to you struggling. “Are you okay?” Carlos exhaled. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have blown up at you.”

“It’s not,” T.K. refuted. “I took drugs before you yelled at me, so pretty sure it’s my fault.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have taken my feelings out on you. I had a hard morning.” He felt like the worst person alive for yelling at T.K. Carlos knew that the drug use wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it could have been avoided if he had been more careful with his words. He should have sensed that T.K. was spiraling before it had gotten to the point that it had, but he had been so caught up in his own shit that he’d not done his job. _I need to start acting more like a professional. I should have never lashed out at a client. I’d resign if I didn’t think that T.K. would drive any other bodyguard away. He needs me here, and I need him to be alive._

“Are _you_ okay?” Carlos looked exhausted, he knew, but everyone who was part of the tour got exhausted. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, dude.”

Carlos ran a comforting hand through T.K.’s hair, but he quickly pulled it away because it felt too intimate. “I’m okay.” He’d been having a lot of nightmares lately, but it wouldn’t be professional to say so. _Like any of this is professional anymore. I’ve crossed so many lines. I’ve gotten too close. I’m compromised, but I can’t walk away._ “I’m more worried about what happened with you today. Do you need to talk about your relapse?”

T.K. shook his head, looking down at his hands instead of Carlos. “No. I’d rather not talk about that.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“You already apologized. What I did wasn’t because of you. I was having a bad day, so it wasn’t something you did to set me off. That was the final straw I guess.” T.K. sighed. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t, like, feel guilty about it or anything, and you can’t treat me like glass just because I might slip up.”

“I’ll do better T.K.”

“I’m an addict. You don’t need to do better. I need to do better.”

“Okay,” Carlos said, and he didn’t look convinced. “What makes it so hard?”

“You know that moment when you take a bath and dip your head underwater and the world is muted? You still hear sound, but it’s so distant that you can detach it from yourself, and in that moment, it feels like you can finally breathe, but obviously, if you stayed under there, you’d drown. So, you come back up only to crave wanting to be in the water again, even if it kills you.” Carlos didn’t know that feeling, not that exact one, but he knew what it felt like to have your head dipping underwater and bobbing back up when you never know when you’ll be able to breathe and when you’ll have to hold your breath. That feeling lingered. It followed him no matter where he went, and it could be suffocating, but it was never life-threatening.

Carlos nodded sympathetically, “Sometimes drowning feels like a noble pursuit rather than a death mission.”

T.K. sighed. “Yeah, and sometimes a death mission feels like a noble pursuit.”

Somberness settled between them, but T.K.’s face grew just a bit brighter. “You know what?”

“What?” Carlos prodded, his heart tensing in anticipation.

“It’s hard to get better when the medicine tastes so bad and the sickness tastes like sweetness.” It was profound in the way that words always sounded more profound when a person high, but T.K. looked like he was having a revelation. Would the revelation lead to anything? Maybe not, but a change was a change.

“It’s like going through a bad breakup,” Carlos said, “It takes grieving what could’ve been to dream of what could be.”

“What could be.” T.K. stated distractedly, looking at the ceiling. His eyes shifted down, and he looked at Carlos with glossy eyes, “What could be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading to all those who stuck around for this story. Sorry it took so long to add a chapter. Glad to be adding a new one. I adore comments and hearing your thoughts.


	8. Mr. Know It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos and T.K. deal with their feelings... 10/10 recommend dealing with feelings.

_Ain't it something y'all_

_When somebody tells you somethin' 'bout you_

_Think that they know you more than you do_

_So you take it down, 'another pill to swallow_

* * *

**Carlos**

* * *

They were about to go to Texas for a couple of shows, so Judd was in extra good spirits when he called Carlos into his office for their one o’clock meeting. “Excited to be going home?” Carlos asked with a grin after Judd had gone on a fifteen-minute rant about how everything in Austin is better than LA. Carlos had to agree that Austin was better than LA, but Austin also had a lot of troublesome memories that soured Carlos’ nostalgia. He hadn’t been gone that long, but he’d been gone long enough that it felt strange to go back, especially in his role as a bodyguard.

“I’ve been countin’ down to this part of the tour. T.K. doesn’t go to Texas enough. You’re a Texas boy yourself, Reyes. You must know it’s the best place on Earth.”

“Maybe so, but I needed a break, so moving to LA, and traveling around the United States has been good. I’m seeing places I’ve never seen before.” Carlos had never strayed too far from Texas when he had been young. His family hadn’t been the go for vacation type, and when he entered the workforce, he’d thrown himself completely into his job, and he hadn’t had much time to go anywhere. They didn’t have time to see many of the sights in locations, but it was still cool just to be there and watch as the scenery and people changed from state to state. Some of the differences were small, but each place was unique. Looking back, they blurred together as they piled on back to back, but when he was in each new place, he tried to take in his surroundings, and not just in the way that pertained to his job.

Judd sipped his coffee, “Wait until you’re a hundred dates in and have spent most of your nights in that stuffy bus. It’s the nicest bus you’ve seen until you’re cramped up in there with the same people.”

“Luckily, T.K. usually lets me stay on the couch in his suite or on the extra bed if there is one.” Carlos had noticed that T.K. had started to make an extra effort to ensure there was an extra bed in his hotel rooms for Carlos. They didn’t always stop at hotels, but when they did, it felt nice to stretch out a little, and Carlos slept better. When they had to be on the road, they were stuck in the bus, sometimes for several nights in row, which quickly went from being novel to being exhausting.

“He keeps you that close?” Judd looked a little surprised. “He must like you.”

“Maybe a little too much.” That was one of the reasons that Carlos had called for the meeting. He and T.K.’s relationship had evolved, and Carlos wasn’t sure that it was going in the right direction. It felt like he was losing sight of his professional boundaries.

Judd shrugged. “He flirts with everyone. If it bothers you, I’ll tell him to cut it out.”

“No, that’s not what I mean, but I’m worried about a friendship—”

Judd guffawed, and Carlos shifted in his seat, wondering what he said that was so funny. “That’s what you’re worrying about? I told you from day one to be his friend. Seems the buddy-guard plot is working.”

“Buddy-guard plot?” Judd made it sound like it was some big conspiracy theory.

“Yeah, like buddy and guard put together,” Judd explained. “I knew you would be the guy for the job.”

“I got _that_ part. But it’s more than just being a buddy-guard at this point. I’ve been spending time with him off the clock. He keeps convincing me to hang out with him, and for whatever reason, I keep saying yes.” Carlos hadn’t meant for it to happen, but on tour, it was easy to get roped into doing things with T.K. even when Carlos had time off. _I’m getting to involved. This only ends up backfiring. I can feel it._

“I can’t believe you would commit such a horrific crime of befriending a talented musician,” Judd said dryly. He rolled his eyes. “Reyes, you sound like a little Catholic school kid going to confession for the first time. You’re on _tour_. There’s not a lot of time to spend with anyone else. It would be weird if two young guys stuck together didn’t hang out.” Carlos wasn’t reassured. Judd was lassiez-faire with Carlos’ bodyguarding. _Why does he trust me so much?_

“I’m guessing none of his other bodyguards did that?” He didn’t need to guess. He knew the high expectation had of themselves, and he had those same expectations of himself. _Am I making mistakes? I don’t have enough distance to tell if I’m screwing this all up. I don’t want to fail at this job too. It’s too important._

Even in the best of situations, Carlos had never been good at keeping his distance. He wanted to help people too much to keep his emotions out of things. _I always get too involved. I listen too much to my heart and I let my feelings carry me away._ Maybe that was a weakness, but it could also be a strength. _It’s good to care, but when does it cross the line to caring too much?_ In any case, bending the rules made him nervous. _Look where bending rules got me before… fired and scrambling to find a new career._ Carlos knew that this could quickly go wrong. When you broke one rule, it was easier to break the next, and then, you kept breaking rules until you broke one that you never imagined yourself breaking. He was prepared for the inevitable disaster that letting himself get more involved would cause. _This disaster will be my own fault, but I’m not stopping it from happening. If this backfires on me I can live with it, but if it backfires on T.K., I’ll never forgive myself._

“Those other bodyguards never lasted that long. They may have done their role perfectly by the book, but they didn’t give T.K. what he needed, so in my book, they failed. You’re succeeding! He likes you, and he doesn’t want you fired. Do you know how rare that is?” Judd continued, “Listen, kid, I know you’ve got this idea of what bodyguard ethics should be, but it’s time that you use your gut rather than the bodyguard handbook. Trust yourself on this because I think you know what you need to do. The most important things you can have with a client are trust, respect, and the willingness to sacrifice for them. Do you have all those?” The problem was that Carlos didn’t know how to trust his gut anymore. It had let him down, and his life had gone to hell as a result. _If I can’t trust myself? What can I trust?_

“Yeah, of course. We trust each other and respect each other. And I know I’d step in front of any danger that cam in his path.”

“There you go then. T.K. doesn’t trust easily, so getting that is all the proof I need to have faith in you.”

“It’s not that simple, though.”

“It is in my book, and as long as you don’t let personal feelings distract you from the job, no one has to know if you cross any lines. I’ll make sure that this doesn’t affect your future jobs.” It had been a while since he had worried much about future jobs. Carlos’ career could indeed be ruined if word got out that he wasn’t professional, but it’s not like the job was what he wanted for the rest of his life. It was always just something he’d done to do something while he figured his shit out, and it had become more permanent than he had intended. “Look, I know I’m asking a lot, but T.K.’s my priority. I’ve got brothers of my own, and I consider T.K. just as much of a brother as one of them, so if I’m asking too much, tell me.”

“You’re not, but I don’t want to do this job if I can’t do it right.”

“You’re doing fine. It’s hard to find it sometimes, but T.K.’s gotta heart of gold when you find it. He needs someone to remind him of that part of him.” Because the crazy fans and paparazzi weren’t the biggest threat to T.K. The biggest threat to T.K. was always himself.

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed. “He’s got that something special about him.” _It feels good to have his attention, and he makes you feel like the most important person in the world when he looks your way. He’s good about making people feel special. I’ve seen the way he treats his fans, even when they’re trying to pull on him and beg him for autographs and pictures._

“Oh, it’s like _that,_ ” Judd said in a knowing tone.

“Like what?” Carlos asked, having no idea what Judd was talking about. _Does he know something that I don’t?_

“You’re not concerned about being friends with T.K. You’re concerned about it going beyond friendships.”

“Oh, no, I would never,” Carlos assured Judd a little too quickly.

“I don’t care who you sleep with. I don’t care who you love. If things happen between you and T.K., that’s not my business, but it is my business if you do anything to hurt him. I’m a nice guy, but I’m serious about my business, got me?”

“That’s not going to happen,” and Carlos wasn’t sure if he was talking about crossing boundaries or breaking T.K.’s heart.

“Like I said, he’s my brother, so as much as I like you, I’m putting him first.”

“Wow, Judd, you like me?” Carlos teased. “I thought I was ‘a fretting nuisance who is too concerned about the letter of the law?’”

“T.K. told you that?” Judd laughed. “It must be more serious between you than I thought if he’s divulging my secret shit-talking.”

“You do know that I was kicked off the police force, right Judd?”

“You’re still a fretting nuisance who is too concerned about the letter of the law.”

“Maybe I’ll give the buddy-guard a shot. Would that change your mind about me?”

“I thought you’d see it my way,” Judd replied smugly.

Carlos shook his head, “How does Grace put up with a husband who is such a know-it-all?”

Judd chuckled. “I can’t pull that shit with her.” Carlos couldn’t pull that shit with T.K. either.

* * *

**T.K.**

* * *

The tour had taken them to Texas, so Grace had come along with Judd for a few of the dates so they could stop in to see family while they were doing the Austin show. It was nice to have her there; Grace was a calming force to have around. Judd was good at managing T.K., but he could get worked up and become impatient when he became passionate. Judd was a lot less stressed when his wife was by his side. For whatever reason, Grace had always had a soft spot for T.K., even when T.K. and Judd had a rough patch when they’d first started working together. Judd had yelled at T.K. for being reckless, and T.K. had lashed out, a cold fear forming in his cut. Grace had been the ones to all but clack their heads together and tell them to get over their egos. Judd had been a loyal ally to T.K. ever since and more of a brother than a manager.

To keep his mind settled, T.K. was having a snack before his performance when great settled next to him. He didn’t like to eat too much before a performance because he sometimes felt a little sick with nerves, even after so many years of being on stage. It got easier, but the nerves never went away, and his vocal coach always said that a little nervousness could be a good thing, but he had to keep himself calm enough to sing. She’d taught him some breathing techniques that helped, and he’d established some pre-performance routines that helped him stay focused on singing.

“How are you doing?” Grace asked. _I’m a liar. I’m acting like I have this all under control. I’m walking from my addiction, but it’s running towards me, and I don’t know how to keep it away. I’m out here all alone just trying to survive and stay grounded. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m not a doctor, and all I can do is take it day by day. I’m powerless to my issues and barely gripping onto control._ Her voice sounded like honey and warm tea, and that only made T.K. feel worse because she was so nice to him and he didn’t deserve any of it.

“I’m good,” T.K. said, stifling a yawn that threatened to come from his mouth. He hadn’t slept much last night. He kept thinking about taking a pill. Nothing bad had even made him want it; he had just wanted it for something to do. Something to occupy his mind, and give him a sense of familiarity when he felt so away from home. _I don’t even have a home._ “I’m not feeling too nervous or anything, so that’s good. Did your nieces get the ticket I sent?”

“They haven’t slept for a week because of those tickets. They’ve been bragging to all their friends, but that’s not what I was talking about.” _There’s no bullshitting Grace._ Carlos had convinced T.K. to tell Judd that he’d relapsed, and Judd told Grace everything. They still didn’t know that T.K. had decided to forgo professional help _because I’m a coward who can’t face his daddy issues._

“Things are better,” T.K. told her honestly. _You don’t know you’ve reached your peak until you’re tumbling over the other side and falling back down._ Grace gave him a firm look. T.K. cracked under the pressure of his gaze. Part of him wanted to come clean about everything because it took so much space, but he started with just a glimpse of what was happening. “I’m still working on it. I slip up sometimes, but Carlos has been helping.” T.K. couldn’t help the fond look on his face as he spoke about Carlos. _I’m so lovesick._ “I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Carlos is a good man, and I’m glad you have him, but you can’t recover for other people,” Grace warned him. “You have to get better for yourself.” _What if I just went for it? What if I committed just this once? Would that be so bad?_ It was easy to decide to recover when things were good, but recovery got harder when things turned bad.

“I know that,” T.K. said, and he knew that he wasn’t committed to recovery. Not yet, not fully. He went through phases when he could cut back and resist the urges, but when things got bad again, he knew he’d spiral and go back to his old ways. He pushed against the urges now. He was trying not to give in, but he knew his patterns. He knew he needed to readdress the therapy thing, but he figured that if he could maintain on his own, why get outside help? He could hear Marjan’s voice in his head calling him an idiot and Judd’s calling him a dumbass.

“Carlos reminds me that there’s a future I want and that it’s something worth fighting for.” T.K. wanted to have a life worth living, not a life worth escaping, and he wasn’t sure how to get it, but being around Carlos gave T.K. a rush of excitement that he hadn’t felt in so long, but T.K.’s issues were still there, and they threatened to kill the little bit of hope he had. T.K. had fantasies about an apple-pie life with Carlos, but he had to remind himself that those fantasies weren’t real.

“Oh, it’s like _that._ ” _Just tell her. Tell her the truth so you can talk about cute guys and not worry about the secrets you’re hiding. Stop being so afraid of everything._

T.K. shook his head, shaking away distractions, but they lingered. “No, it’s not like _that,_ Grace. He’s too much of a rule follower for that. I’ve barely gotten him to be my friend, and I am not even sure we could call ourselves that. He’s nice to me, but he’s also paid to be, and he’s _Carlos_. He’s nice to _everyone_. So, we’re just sort of friends and that’s it.” It’s was only a dream, a silly school-boy crush dream, that Carlos was someone more to T.K. than an employee or a casual acquaintance.

“Do you see him when he’s not on duty?” Grace inquired.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Buts don’t matter right now. If he’s not being paid to spend time with you and he does it anyway just because he likes you, that’s friendship. It’s as simple as that.” Hope fluttered in T.K., and he knew how dangerous hope could be. He protected himself by being a cynic, and by being a cynic, he deprived himself of joy.

“Is it too weird? For us to be friends?” T.K.’s never had a dynamic like that with a bodyguard before, but he knew that he didn’t want to lose it. Carlos was nice to talk to, and they laughed a lot when they were together. He made T.K.’s life easier when he didn’t have to, and T.K. found himself wanting to make Carlos’ life easier as well.

Grace shrugged. “It’s unconventional, but so is my relationship with Judd. I was very young when we started dating, and he was several years older, which felt bigger then. It took some of my family a while to come around to this big, white cowboy that had snuck into my life, but Judd and I work together.”

“Maybe I should listen to Marjan when she tells me that I can’t control how good relationships start; all I can do is let them happen.” T.K. missed his best friend, but they never went long without texting and facetime calls.

“You know I’ve always liked that girl.”

“She is team T.K. needs a boyfriend.” Marjan swore that T.K. and Carlos were meant to be together, and it wasn’t like T.K. didn’t feel the chemistry, but he wasn’t sure Carlos would ever go for it. _I’m so fucked up, and he’s so normal._

“Do you want it to be more than friendship?”

T.K. lowered his voice. “Would that be bad? I’m kind of his boss,” he said with a nervous chuckle. Thinking about it, the whole power dynamic was the least prominent obstacle of them all. T.K. himself was the big, mountainous obstacle standing in the way.

“It’s something to think about. Technically, Judd is his boss. If things didn’t work out, Judd would set him up with a new client,” Grace pointed out. “You’d have things to talk about, that’s for sure and boundaries to build, but if it feels right, it’s not impossible.”

“That’s what I was afraid you’d say.” It all sounded complicated, and T.K. wasn’t sure he was mentally stable enough for complicated. _Would it be bad for my mental health or am I just running scared? That’s the question._ “I think I’ve idealized him to be this perfect guy because… I don’t know. I’m still kind of messed up and I just want him to be the thing that changes me for good,” he admitted, and it was starting to dawn on him how much he didn’t want to keep going the way he was going.

Things were clearer without drugs, and he was starting to feel like himself, whoever that was. It was intimidating and it made him shake with terror, but he was starting to feel again. Part of him wanted to get better, just as part of him wanted to get worse. Often, he only had moments of wanting to get better, and those were the brief windows of opportunity that opened up for positive change to sneak in.

Grace put a hand over T.K.’s. “You don’t have to decide anything now. Your therapist might be able to help you sort it out and determine what’s best for you.” _Oh, right, the therapist I don’t have, the one I keep telling myself that I don’t need, even as I feel like shit._

T.K. bit his lip. _Keeping secrets isn’t helping me. I’m doing well. I’m feeling better, and I don’t want to ruin it with secrets._ The window was open, and he was feeling brave. His guard was down, and the lie he wanted to tell didn’t quite make it to his mouth. “I’m not seeing a therapist,” T.K. told her in a faint voice.

“Oh?” Grace looked disappointed, but she forced a reassuring smile. “Why’s that?” He started to doubt himself, the window was already starting to fall closed, but he stuck his hand out and shoved it open again before it could slam down on him. The wood splintered against his hand, but he kept it open. His hands shook, and his body ached from the window’s weight of holding, but there was adrenaline rushing through his body, and he wasn’t going to waste the moment.

T.K. swallowed the thick glob of saliva in his throat, and his mouth felt too dry, but he forced himself to speak. “I only saw her once in person. I had two video sessions before that, but I haven’t been seeing her,” and the confession felt like a relief. He had felt like the worst person in the world for acting like he had it all under control. He knew he didn’t. He was one bad day away from a spiral, and that was scary and lonely.

“I’m glad you told me,” Grace said, and the answer felt too gracious.

“And you’ll tell Judd?”

She shook her head, “We don’t keep secrets, but this is a confidential matter, so I won’t tell him unless you want me to.”

“You can,” T.K. told her. “It would be easier if you did. I want him to know.” He’d lose his courage before he told Judd, but if he gave Grace his permission to speak for him, he could borrow a little courage that he didn’t yet have for himself.

“He’s not going to let this go. You know how he is.” She was trying to prepare T.K. for the reaction, and he appreciated it, but he knew from experience how Judd would react.

“I know,” T.K. replied, “But I need people to hold me accountable.” His addiction was going to regret this moment of vulnerability later. It would lash out and tell T.K. that he was being a fool. It would tell him to start lying again. Giving up the secrecy made it harder to give in to the addiction, and T.K. had been holding onto the secrecy for too long, keeping it as a backup plan in case he needed the comfort of substances. Honesty wasn’t going to make him happy or save him for himself, but it was giving himself a running start. It would give him a real chance of getting away rather than just a reprieve.

“Okay, honey. I’ll tell him after the show, and I’ll try to calm the big brother mode.”

“Thanks, Grace.” T.K. sighed in relief, but the anxiety was starting to come back in. He felt his muscles weakening. The moment was almost gone. “One last thing?” he asked. “Do you think you could reprint that list of therapists?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

“I messed up,” T.K. reminded her, the shame creeping into his consciousness.

“But ultimately, you decided to fight, and that’s what matters.”

The window was slipping from his grip, being pulled down by gravity, but he forced himself to keep it open just a crack. T.K.’s addiction may always influence him, but he doesn’t want it to control him because it’s about time he gets to know himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm not sure why I felt compelled to write this, but here it is. I hope at least someone likes this very self indulgent fic. Anyways, thanks for reading. Let me know your thoughts. Also, as always, I'll be hanging out at my tumblr: lonestarbabe. You're all amazing and I hope you are doing well.


End file.
